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BAD TO BEAT. 

a Nobfi. 



HAWLEY SMAET, 

Author of 


“ Breezie Langton,” “From Post to Finish,” “Lightly Lost,” <feo 


IN ONE VOLUME. _ 


CHICAGO: 

Rand, McNally & Company. Publishers, 

148, 150, 152 AND 154 MONROE STREET; and 
323 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 

1886 . 


CONTENTS 


OHAP. PAGE 

1. — St. Helen’s 1 

IE. — The Hunt Ball 15 

in. — Arkah ....... 28 

IV. — Winchester Barracks .... 40 

V. — “Huts” Puzzled . . . . .53 

VI. — ^The Race 66 

VII. — Molly arrives at Arrah ... 83 

YIII. — Eastward Ho! ..... 95 

IX. — The Siege Begins . . . . .107 

X. — His “Baptism of Fire” . . . 119 

XI. — ^Mine and Counter-Mine . . . 133 

XII. — The Sortie 145 

XIII. — At Calcutta 157 

XIY. — One Race too Many . . . . 169 
XY. — ’Twixt Tomb and Altar . . .185 


BAD TO BEAT. 


CHAPTEE I. 

ST. Helen’s. 

S OME half-dozen miles from Maidstone, 
and standing a little off the London 
road, might be seen a many-gabled red brick 
mansion, which, from the well-wooded park 
in which it stood and the ample range of 
stabling that lay adjacent to it, to say 
nothing of conservatories, well-kept gardens, 
et cetera, all gave promise of much comfort 
and no little opulence on the part of the 
proprietor. A house of the Queen Anne 
period, which had been gradually patched 
and added to, in order to suit modern re- 
quirements ; at the present time the inside 
fully justified the appearance of the exterior. 
St. Helen’s looked the abode of a man with 
whom the world ran easily, and Christopher 
Cheviott had certainly had a pleasant time of 
it in this life. A cheery, middle-aged man, 
not only fond of field sports, but taking a 


2 


SAD TO BEAT. 


lively interest in pretty well everything that 
was going on, now engaged in fierce political 
argument over his port, now threatening the 
direst penalties of the law from the Maid- 
stone bench to some offender against the 
game laws, now holding his own very 
respectably when hounds were running, 
and anon the life and soul of a country 
dance at the Hunt ball, Mr. Cheviott plunged 
with a will into everything he undertook. 
As some of his cronies said : “ It makes 

one feel young again to see Kit Cheviott go 
down the middle.” He had never married ; 
whether the right woman had never come his 
way, or whether he honestly thought 

“ That the bachelor bees have the best of the hive,” 

I don’t know, but the fact remains. Kit 
Cheviott had turned fifty, and was still un- 
married. However, the young ladies of the 
neighbourhood had no cause to complain, 
and numberless were the pleasant parties 
that were assembled under the hospitable 
roof of St. Helen’s. He was a staunch 
supporter of the Maidstone balls, and 
invariably filled his house with a perfect 
cohort of young men, and he not only 
expected but took good care these young 
men should do their duty. 


ST. HELEN'S. 


3 


Two men were playing in the billiard-room 
this chill January evening, one of whom, 
apparently, from the conversation, had no 
great wish to exchange the inside of the 
house for the out again that night. 

“ That’s five more to me. Nuts,” said the 
striker, a tall, dark, good-looking fellow, who 
might almost have been pronounced hand- 
some, except for one thing, to wit, a some- 
what unpleasant hardness about the face. 
You could fancy him not likely to yield 
to any vreakness, and very stern and 
pitiless in his anger “ I suppose,” he 
continued, as he made another cannon, 
“ there’s no getting off going to this con- 
founded foolery to-night ? ” ^ 

“No, don’t you flatter yourself on that 
point, my boy. Kit Cheviott don’t quite feed 
you for nothing. He does you well, but he 
expects you to shake your legs freely to- 
night.” 

“I hate balls, it’s an awful bore, but I 
suppose one must go.” 

“ Come, I say, Denton, I’ve known you go 
to balls, and apparently extract a very 
decent amount of entertainment from them. 
It is true you’re a lazy beggar, and would 
always rather sit out than dance.” 

“ It’s all very well, Master Nuts, w'here one 


4 


BAD TO BEAT. 


knows people, but it’s my first visit down 
here.” 

“ And a very jolly crib it is, too. It’s not 
my first by a good many, and I trust it won’t 
be my last. Bless you, you will enjoy it 
when you get there. There are always lots 
of pretty girls in the ‘hop countries. I 
suppose hops, pretty girls and lady birds go 
together.” 

“ That was about as easy a cannon as ever 
I saw muffed,” laughed Denton, “ philoso- 
phising, and billiards don’t go together.” 

“Well, I own that last was a pretty bad 
miss,” replied Mr. Eobert Nuthall, for such 
was that gentleman’s true patronymic, but 
none of his intimates ever dreamed of 
addressing him in that wise. 

He was just the very man who would be 
called “ Bobby” or “Nuts.” You could not 
fancy him being addressed as Nuthall by 
anybody who knew him at all well. A 
slight, sandy-haired boy wuth keen grey 
eyes, and a somewhat snub nose ; a more 
precocious urchin never joined Her Majesty’s 
— th than this rather “ plain-headed ” ensign. 
At the same time, during the two years that 
he had been a soldier, nobody had ingratiated 
himself more with his comrades than “ Nuts.” 
He was full of “ go,” and full of fun, per- 


ST. HELEN'S. 


6 


fectly imperturbable, and gifted with an 
effrontery unsurpassed amongst the children 
of Adam. 

Suddenly there was a sound of laughter, 
a trampling of feet, and then half-a-dozen 
men, headed by their jovial host, burst into 
the billiard-room. 

“ Ha ! here you two fellows are,” exclaimed 
Kit Cheviott. “ Hurry up your game, 
please, and then well have a pool. We all 
want our revenge on Master Bobby there, 
who robbed us all last night disgracefully.” 

“Don’t you chaff a poor innocent like 
that. Squire. The way these unprincipled 
marauders went for this unfortunate orphan 
last night, you can’t imagine. If you had 
been here to see Denton, I am sure you 
would have interfered.” 

“ Yes,” laughed one of the new-comers, “ I 
think you would, but it would have been on 
behalf of the pillaged — not the pillager. The 
way that young robber doubled us, shot us, 
and dribbled us into the pockets last night 
was disgusting ” 

“ Nuts has a very tidy idea of pool,” re- 
joined Denton, as he made a scientific losing 
hazard off the red. “ There, that’s game ! 
and now the sooner we start a pool the 
better.” But as he spoke Denton put his cue 


6 


BAD TO BEAT. 


back in the rack, and turning to Cheviott, 
said : 

“ Do you expect a large ball to-night ? ” 

“ Pretty much the same as usual, I suppose,” 
rejoined the host. “About a hundred and 
fifty or thereabouts, but I think you’ll own 
we can show you a few pretty girls The 
three Miss Lyddells would take a good deal 
of beating anywhere ; and I am told they 
have a verj'' pretty cousin staying with them 
to boot. However, come along and take your 
ball, we can talk over the evening’s campaign 
at dinner.” 

“ Thanks, no,” replied Denton. “I’ve got 
two or three letters that I must write before 
the post goes out, and so I won’t join you.” 

“ As you like,” replied Mr. Cheviott. 
“ Halloa, brown upon green, that’s me,” and 
the host was at once lost in the intricacies of 
pool. 

Leaving the billiard-room, Denton promptly 
made his way to his own chamber, and having 
exchanged his heavy boots for slippers, threw 
himself into an easy-chair, and began to 
indulge in reve*>ie. 

Dick Denton was a man whom his regiment 
never could quite make out. A hard, reti- 
cent, self-reliant man, although upon excellent 
terms with his comrades, he had no great 


ST. HELEN'S. 


7 


friends amongst them. It was not that he 
held at all aloof from them, far from it. He 
took his part in all that was going on, and 
had proved himself good at most things when 
he took the trouble to try. He was no gam- 
bler, though he was admittedly far away the 
best whist and ecarte player in the corps, and 
they all honestly owned that none of them 
could touch him across country. What he 
was as a soldier his comrades would have been 
puzzled to decide. That he knew his work 
well enough there could be no doubt, but he 
usually performed it in the contemptuous 
fashion of a man rather bored by the whole 
thing. But it was the hard, cjuiical side ol 
his character that always forbade men being 
intimate with Dick Denton. It would have 
required considerable courage to unbosom 
oneself to the somewhat saturnine captain. 
True, when he had been appealed to he had 
been no niggard of shrewd advice and more 
practical help if needed ; but then he very 
seldom was appealed to. His brother officers 
would grumble out their griefs and difficulties 
to each other over their evening pipes, but 
none of them ever thought of opening their 
hearts to Denton. Stay ! there was one ex- 
ception. The precocious “ Nuts.” That 
young gentleman was constantly in scrapes of 


8 


BAD TO BEAT, 


some sort, and, to the amazement of the corps, 
he generally trotted oh’ with his troubles to 
Denton. It was perhaps the very novelty of 
the thing, that attracted the latter, but certain 
it w^as that the only man in the regiment 
who ever informally dropped into Denton’s 
quarters was Bobby Nuthall, and that young 
gentleman had shown much wisdom in the 
selection of his mentor ; there was not a 
shrewder headpiece in the regiment than 
Dick Denton’s. 

“ Eather monotonous,” he muttered, “ this 
perpetual round of garrison life I am 
getting very tired of it. To be a soldier and 
never to have seen service seems in these 
days contemptible. However, such has been 
my luck. I exchanged from India into this 
corps because I looked upon myself as bound 
to go to the Crimea, and no doubt I should 
have done if the Avar hadn’t finished with the 
fall of Sebastopol. Now I suppose there’s 
another long spell of peace before us. Indeed, 
I have left the country where one is most 
likely to see service. There’s always the 
chance of a fight springing up in India. 
Well, I must write these letters. What a 
bore this ball to-night is ! However, I am 
bound to say Cheviott has given us three rare 
good days’ shooting to balance it.” 


ST. HELEN’S. 


9 


In the billiard-room, meanwhile, an up- 
roarious pool was going on, and the leader 
of all the chaff and laughter was undoubtedly 
Bobby Nuthall. That precocious young 
gentleman played rather better than most 
of his opponents, moreover was playing 
with good luck, and was merciless in his 
raillery as he pocketed his adversaries’ six- 
pences. 

“What have you entered for the Hunt 
Steeplechase, Cheviott?” enquired a fair man, 
whose last “ life ” had just been taken by the 
invincible Bobby. 

“ Well, I don’t know what to think about 
it,” replied the Squire. “ Old Trumpeter is a 
good horse, and would go very near winning 
it again if I had only a good man to ride 
him, but to find a jockey is always a 
trouble.” 

“ Put him in, Squire. Put him in. Squire ! ” 
cried the irrepressible “ Nuts.” “ I’ll see that 
there is someone to ride him.” 

“ Why, you don’t mean yourself ? ” ex- 
claimed Cheviott. “Eemember, Master Bobby, 
I’ve known you from your school-boy days, 
and without saying anything against your 
horsemanship ” 

“ Mr. Cheviott,” interrupted Nuthall with 
mock solemnity, “ no disparagement on my 


10 


BAD TO BEAT. 


hor.semansliip. What will anyone lay me 
against Trumpeter winning if he is left in my 
hands ? ” 

“If, by your -hands, you mean that you 
will ride him. I’ll lay you eight ponies this 
minute,” - 

“ No, Sandeman, I don’t quite mean that ; 
but if the Squire will trust me with his 
management I’ll see Trumpeter has a good 
man on him in March.” 

“ If you promise to find a jockey. I’ll enter 
the horse,” said Cheviott. 

“ And I’ll lay you the eight ponies all the 
same,” said Sandeman, “ there’s sure to be a 
large entry, and I think that grey of mine 
will, at all events, hold Trumpeter safe. 
Squire.” 

“ He’s a very nice horse,” rejoined Mr. 
Cheviott, “ but I’ll stand by my own Stable. 
But I’ll tell you what, if young Micklam 
enters and rides that brown mare of his, I 
think he’ll probably beat us both. And now 
it is time to dress for dinner.” 

As they went upstairs, three or four en- 
quiries were put to Nuthall as to who was 
the jockey he had in his eye ; but that young 
gentleman at once affected the manner of one 
possessed of a mighty secret, and refused the 
slightest information on that subject. 


ST. HELEN'S, 


11 


Having finished his letters, Denton com- 
menced his toilet, and as he did so, could not 
help glancing back at his past life. He was 
a disappointed man as regards his profession, 
his comrades mistook him greatly when they 
fancied that he was not a thorough soldier at 
heart. He was not only that, but an am- 
bitious one to boot. Joining a regiment in 
India as a mere stripling, he had thrown him- 
self into all the sports of that country with 
the keenest avidity. He had spent weeks 
camping out in pursuit of big game, he had 
slain the lord of the jungle, and taken many 
a spear pig-sticking, and, for a time, enjoyed 
his life keenly. The first thing that awoke 
the genuine fire of soldiering within him and 
made him enthusiastic about his profession, 
was the outbreak of the Crimean War. The 
idea of England being involved in another 
great continental war had never crossed his 
mind. He had looked upon India as the 
one part of her dominions in which there 
was any likelihood of real fighting being seen, 
and now a strong desire possessed him to be 
one of that army that was assembling on the 
shores of the Black Sea. He could see no 
possible means of gratifying this wish. To 
exchange, standing as he did at the top of 
the list of subalterns, was to throw away all 


BAD TO beat. 


12 

chance of promotion, and forfeit the results 
of close upon ten years’ service. No, come 
what would, he was bound to hang on with 
his present corps, till he had attained his 
company. But no man followed the accounts 
of the campaign with keener interest than 
Dick Denton. At last came the story of the 
Alma, and then his feverish anxiety to be in 
the Crimea grew almost insupportable. He 
chafed and fretted, so that even his comrades 
could not help wondering what had come to 
one ordinarily so self-contained as Denton. 
He hung on all the early details of the siege 
and his eyes sparkled when he read of the 
glorious stand of Inkermann. 

“ To think ! ” he exclaimed, “ that one 
should be tied here by the leg, when there is 
such work as that going on.” But in the 
spring of the following year came the long 
looked-for promotion. And once in the 
“ Gazette,” Denton lost no time in applying 
for leave home. Once there, he set to work to 
either exchange or get transferred to a regi- 
ment in the Crimea ; but all this took time, 
and ere he had effected his object, the battle 
of the Tchernaya had been fought, it was 
patent to men versed in military matters 
that the allies’ grip on Sebastopol was 
tightening rapidly, and Denton succeeded in 


ST. HELEN'S, 13 

getting no further than Malta before the 
famous fortress fell. With that terminated 
all Denton’s chance of going to the Chersonese, 
and at the time of the commencement of our 
story his regiment was quartered at Win- 
chester. 

It was a very sore subject with Denton 
that he should have missed being in the 
campaign at all, the corps he had exchanged 
into had been in the Crimea since the com- 
mencement, and nearly all its officers were 
decorated. Another thing, too, rather galling 
to a proud man such as Denton was, those 
of his own rank being so very much his 
junior in point of years. Promotion had 
been very quick with the Crimean men, 
while in the corps from which Denton had 
exchanged it had been rather slow. His 
bad luck rather rankled, he was always 
harping upon it, and disappointment had 
made him a more reserved man than he was 
naturally. AU these thoughts ran through 
his head as he put the finishing touches to 
his toilet. “ Ah ! he thought, “ I wonder 
whether I shall ever see India again ! I don’t 
think I should care to go back there now. 
As for active service, that is a thing that I 
suppose I never shall see. My luck is too 
bad. Unlucky devils like myself seem 


14 


^Al) TO BEAT. 


destined never to assist in extinguishing a 
conflagration. The fire is always out belbre 
we can get to it.” 

Could Denton, as he went down the stair- 
case, have looked into the future, he would 
have seen that the fruition of his desires was 
very near at hand, and that he was destined 
to recall this night to his mind amidst all the 
grime and smoke of battle, with the bullets 
hissing fiercely by his ears and the sabres 
gleaming redly around him. 


CHAPTEE II. 


THE HUNT BALL. 



N the out.skirts of Maidstone stood a 


u substantially-built villa, called “ The 
Mulberries,” the name acquired, probably, 
from the fact that there were two or three 
of those trees in the well-kept pleasaunce. 
This was the residence of James Lyddell, the 
great brewer ; the Lyddells had supplied Maid- 
stone and the surrounding neighbourhood 
with beer now for three generati ns, and, as is 
well known, brewing is a prosperous industry 
with which much money is to be made. 
James Lyddell, indeed, was a wealthy man, 
and dispensed the good things of this life to 
those around him in no niggardly fashion. 
His daughters, handsome girls in the full 
enjoyment of youth and animal spirits, mixed 
freely in all the gaieties that were going on, 
and it need scarcely be said, were not likely 
to miss attendance at a ball taking place no 
distance from their own gate. At the present 
moment they are both busy in the room of their 
cousihand guest. Miss Mary Lepel, morecom- 


3 


16 


BAI) TO BEAT. 


monly known as Molly Lepel, after her famous 
namesake, assisting her to put the last touches 
to her toilet. 

“ There, Molly,” said the elder, as she fas- 
tened the flower in her dress, “ I think you’ll 
do now ; I’m sure you look lovely.” 

Miss Lepel surveyed herself critically in 
the pier glass for some few minutes, and 
was, apparently, well satisfied with what she 
saw there, and certainly with due reason. 
Miss Lepel was an unmistakeably pretty girl, 
with a profusion of dark brown hair, and 
deep grey eyes, at this moment dancing with 
fun. Her cousins were both counted good- 
looking girls, but I think there could be no 
two opinions that Miss Lepel completely 
eclipsed them. 

“ Well, Bella,” she said, at length, “ I think 
I’m looking my best, and I hope so. I 
want to be a success at my last ball in 
England.” 

“ That you’re sure to be,” replied Bella. 
“ You will be the belle of the room to-night. 
Now it’s time we went downstairs.” 

“ Ah, here you are, girls ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Lyddell, who was fidgetting about in the hall. 
“ It is time we were off, but come into the 
drawing-room for a moment, while I have a 
good look at you in all your splendour.” 


THE HUNT BALL. 


17 


“ Magnificent!” he continued, as h? looked 
them carefully over. “ I shall feel exces- 
sively proud of my young ladies to-night, 
and am prepared to bet there’s not a middle- 
aged gentleman there who has charge of 
such a team as mine. As for you, Molly, 
you ought to be ticketed ‘For India,’ and 
then, if the young men allow you to go, 
well, I shall be ashamed of the county.” 

“ Thank you, uncle,” replied Miss Lepel, 
saucily ; “ but perhaps the young man to 
please my fancy won’t be there. If they 
will only make my ball pleasant to-night, I 
shall be quite content with them.” 

A quarter of a hour’s drive carried them 
to the door of the Assembly Eooms, and the 
strains of the band as they alighted warned 
them that the ball was in full swing. There 
was every prospect of its being a good one, 
they saw, as they entered the room. It was 
well filled, and had evidently opened with 
spirit. Still, at present, it looked as if the 
men were likely to run rather short. 

“ We’re in capital time,” whispered Bella 
Lyddell to her cousin. “ There’s a good many 
people who I know are coming not yet 
arrived. The St. Helen’s party is not here, 
and Julia and I always reckon upon them a 
good deal. Mr, Cheviott is a very old friend 


18 


BAD TO BEAT. 


of ours, find it is so good of him, he always 
brings a lot of young men Ju and I always 
declare lie tries them beforehand, for they 
are generally all good dancers. Ah, here 
comes Mr. Cheviott, and I see he has got Mr. 
Nuthall, Mr. Sandeman, and another old 
friend or two, amongst his party.” 

As for Nuts, he was evidently w^ell known, 
and was speedily shaking hands right and 
left. Most of the others, too, seemed to have 
acquaintances ; but Denton, as he had antici- 
pated, knew nobody. Not that that much 
mattered in the hands of such a host as Kit 
Cheviott. The Squire, for the first few 
minutes, was too engrossed in greeting his 
neighbours, to pay much attention to his own 
immediate party. They wanted very little 
looking after, and had all plunged into the 
thick of the fray at once ; but ere long, 
Denton caught his eye, and Mr. Cheviott at 
once determined that would never do. Denton 
was lounging near the doorway, looking on 
at the whole proceedings wfith a rather wearied 
expression on his face. It was a somewhat 
striking face, and more 'than one person had 
asked who the dark, good-looking man was, 
wdio seemed so intensely bored with the 
whole entertainment. No sooner did the then 
valse come to a conclusion, than Mr. Cheviott 


THE HUNT BALL. 


19 


made his way to the delinquent’s side, and 
exclaimed : 

“ Come, Captain Denton, this will never 
do ; let me find you a partner. I’m sure 
there are pretty girls enough here to-night. 
Even you must own that Miss Lepel, who has 
come with the Lyddells, is hard to beat. I 
don’t think I ever saw a lovelier girl.” 

“ Is that the girl you mean ? ” asked Denton. 
“ Yes, I should like to know her. Introduce 
me, will you ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied the Squire, and he at 
oiice took Denton across the room and per- 
formed the ceremony, but Miss Lepel was 
already pretty deeply engaged. Her beauty 
had attracted attention at once, and other 
men had been prompter than Denton to solicit 
a dance from the new star. However, she 
accorded him a dance, though it was rather 
low down, and with that Denton was fain to 
be content, and had it rested with him, he 
would have "been quite satisfied to remain a 
looker on till .his turn came ; but the Squire 
had no idea of allowing this, and insisted 
upon introducing him to two or three other 
partners ; still, for all that Denton danced but 
little. He was a connoisseur in female beauty 
and it suited him better to lounge against 
the wall and admire this Miss Lepel than to 


20 


BAD TO BEAT. 


exert himself as the Squire would have had 
him do. 

He had been struck with Molly Lepel, the 
moment he entered the room, and admitted at 
once that she was a very beautiful girl ; still 
he had been in no hurry to make her acquain- 
tance. The charm would probably be all 
over then, he thought ; when he came to talk 
to her, he should probably find her conversa- 
tion wearisome. He had been disappointed 
so often in that way, it was better perhaps to 
look lazily on, and feast his eyes with admira- 
tion of her graceful movements. However, 
when the time came for his promised valse, 
he at once claimed his partner. 

“ Do you live in this part of the country. 
Miss Lepel ? ” he inquired as he gave her his 
arm. 

“ No, I am only staying with my uncle ; 
paying a farewell visit indeed, before leaving 
England.” 

“ Going abroad, I presume,” rejoined 
Denton. “ Not a very nice time of the year 
for travelling.” 

“No, I am going to India to join my 
father, who holds a good appointment out 
there. You don’t know the country, I sup- 
pose ? ” 

“ Very well,” answered Denton quietly. “ I 


THE HUNT BALL. 


21 


have spent a big slice of my life out there ; in 
fact, it is not yet two years since I left it.” 

“ Did you like it ? ” she inquired somewhat 
abruptly. 

“ Very much for some time,” he replied. 
“ You see I am an enthusiast in the matter of 
sport, and it is certainly a wonderful country 
for that, but one began to get rather tired of 
the monotony at last, and then, you see, the 
stirring times they were having in the Cher - 
sonese made us soldiers restless.” 

“ I think I understand,” she replied. “ You 
wanted to be in the Crimea ; I can fancy that 
a soldier would have that feeling. Did you 
succeed ?” 

“ Did I succeed ! ” he answered as his face 
darkened. “ How do you know that I ever 
tried to get there ? ” 

“ I am sure you did,” replied Miss Lepel, 
“ I can see it in your face. Forgive me,” 
she felt intuitively that she was touching on a 
sore subject. 

“ I have nothing to forgive, Miss Lepel,” he 
said quietly ; “ we cannot all have what we 
wish for in this world, and besides, I might 
have been one of the many who never came 
back. The room has a little thinned now, 
shall we take a turn ? ” 

“ Yes,” she murmured as he put his arm 


22 


BAB TO BEAT. 


round her waist, “ but I can imagine a man 
saying, ‘ better that, than never to have been 
there,’ ” and then Molly gave herself up to the 
enjoyment of the valse. 

It was a good band and they were both 
good goers. Miss Lepel was fond of dancing, 
and apt to be somewhat fastidious in the 
choice of her partners, but as a stranger she 
had been compelled to take them a little hap- 
hazard as regards that particular, this even- 
ing, and the result had been one or two bitter 
experiences. However, as far as that went 
she was perfectly satisfied on this occasion. 

“ A mistake, that last conclusion of yours, 
Miss Lepel ; on the principle that the live 
dog is better than the dead lion, so a man 
need hardly despair of his career with some 
years before him. Besides, don’t you see,” 
he continued, as they paused, “ I am in the 
position of a man with an untasted pleasure 
before him, if I may be allowed thus to 
describe our gladiatorial instincts.” 

Molly looked at him as he spoke. There 
was a half-sarcastic smile about his mouth, 
which the dark moustache only half-con- 
cealed, and it flashed across her that Captain 
Denton’s face would be hard and stern in 
the day of battle. It was a queer thought 
to cross the girl’s mind, but Molly Lepel was 


THE HUNT BALL. 


23 


rather an imaginative young lady, though 
she little dreamt that she was destined to see 
that face under those circumstances. 

“ Yes,” she rejoined, “ after the tremendous 
experiences we have had lately, one will 
always regard war as very possible.” 

“ And when do you sail for India ? ” he 
enquired. 

“ In about three weeks. This I believe to 
be my last dance in England.” 

“ I hope you can spare me one more 
valse,” said Denton. “That was too short.” 

“ I would if I could, with pleasure,” re- 
plied Miss Lepel. > “ I am very fond of it, 
and your step suits mine exactly, which is 
more than I can say of one or two of the 
partners I have had to-night ; but I am en- 
gaged for the next two. and I am afraid we 
shall be going before there is another, but I 
will put you down if you like.” 

Denton thanked her and rejoined : 

“Even if our valse doesn’t come off, I 
shall see you again before you go. Miss 
Lepel, just to say good-bye, and wish you 
hon voyage.” And with a bow he consigned 
her to the care of her uncle 

“ She seems rather a nice girl,” mused 
Denton, as he strolled back to his old lounge 
near the door. “ And by Jove, what a sen- 


34 


BAD TO BEAT. 


sation she will make at Poonah, Bangalore, 
or where ver’s her destiny. She will beat 
anything they’ve got out there, aye from the 
Himalayas to Cape Comorin, I’ll lay a hun- 
dred. Lepel, Lepel — let’s see, where did I 
know a Lepel? Of course, how stupid of 
me not to recollect it before. It’s an un- 
common name, and I wonder it never struck 
me. I wish I had asked her. She’s a 
daughter of Judge Lepel’s, I’ve no doubt. I 
knew him a little, when we were quartered 
in the North-West Provinces. As hospitable 
a fellow as ever lived, and entertained a good 
deal. I think I recollect hearing that he 
was a widower. Well, I don’t suppose I’m 
likely to come across her again, but there 
will be a sore heart or two on board the ship 
that takes her to India I’ll go bail. Those 
evenings in the tropics are conducive to much 
flirtation, when the temptation is not half so 
fair.” 

Here Denton’s reflections were cut short 
by the appearance of Bobby Nuthall. That 
restless young gentleman was in a state of 
excitement. 

“ Look here, Denton,” he exclaimed. “ I 
want to speak to you for a moment. I have 
promised to find Cheviott a jockey for his 
horse. He’s going to enter old Trumpeter 


THE HUNT BALL. 


25 


for the Hunt Steeplechases which come off in 
March. Will you ride for him?” 

“ Go on,” replied Denton quietly, “ that’s 
not the whole of your story ; what have you 
been about just now ? ” 

“Well, I’ve backed him for a good deal 
of money. It all began in the billiard-room 
after you went upstairs to write letters, and 
I took Sandeman’s eight ponies about him 
there. Just now I went down to the supper- 
room to get some champagne after my meri- 
torious exertions up here, and there are a 
whole lot of fellows there, talking over the 
race, and finally we settled down to some 
smartish betting over it. They chaffed me a 
good bit about it, and the end of it was, I 
backed the horse three or four times more ; 
in fact, I’ve got more money on it, a good 
deal, than I like, and if you don’t ride for 

me, I shall be in an awful mess ” 

“ I don’t as a rule care about riding a 
horse of which I know nothing,” replied 
Denton, “ and I’ve never seen this one, 
except in th& stable. He struck me there 
as a very nice weight-carrying hunter, but 
I should think he hadn’t speed for 'steeple- 
chasing. What makes you and the Squire 
think he has a chance ? ” 

“ Why he won it once before.” 


26 


BAB TO BEAT. 


“ Yes, but they will only put extra weight 
upon him for that. However, I’ll tell you 
Avliat I’ll do for you. I’ll ride him, and take 
part of your bets off your hands. I always 
like to have an interest in mj^ mount.” 

Bobby Nuthall was profuse in his grati- 
tude. He was a wicked little creature in 
one respect, much given to having what he 
called a “ flutter,” which meant a little bit 
of gambling. This evening, excited by the 
chair, he had certainly put more money upon 
Trumpeter than was prudent for a young 
gentleman of his means, and Denton had 
once or twice before helped him out of simi- 
lar scrapes. Having promised to do his best 
for Mr. Cheviott’s horse, Denton dismissed 
the subject from his mind, and his thoughts 
once more reverted to Miss Lepel. He 
wondered where they had got in the pro- 
gramme, and whether there was any chance 
of his obtaining that dance she had promised 
him. 

Another minute and that question was 
solved for him, for that young lady, on the 
arm of her cavalier, stood before him, and 
extending her hand said : 

“ I must wish you good-bye. Captain 
Denton ; we are going now, and our valse 
must remain an engagement unfulfilled.” 


TBE BUNT SALL. 


27 


“ I am sorry,” replied Denton : “ but it is 
possible we may meet again, and then I shall 
ask permission to claim it.” 

“Not very probable, I am afraid,” she. 
rejoined smiling, 

“ Oh, I don’t know ! ” he replied, “ Mine . 
is a very vagrant profession, and takes us all 
over the world. Unlikely though it looks 
now, we may meet again. However, I sup- 
pose for the present I must say good-bye.” 

Another minute and she was gone, and 
despite his last words Denton wondered very 
much whether he ever should see Molly 
Lepel again. Mercifully on these occasions 
we alwaj'^s do expect that we shall meet 
again. It would be too sad, if when 
parting with the many pleasant people we 
meet with on our way through the world, 
we thought we were bidding them adieu for 
ever. And yet, how often it is so. 


CHAPTER m. 


ARRAH, 


GLORIOUS night in the tropics, the 



A heavens are gemmed with stars, and 
the pale moonlight shimmers down upon the 
white walls of the group of bungalows that 
constitute the little cantonment of Arrah. Its 
inhabitants are apparently at rest, and nothing 
breaks the stillness but the occasional bark of 
a pariah dog, or the sharp cry of some prowl- 
ing jackal. Stay ! From behind the jalousies of 
one of the larger buildings, comes the sound 
of voices and occasional bursts of laughter. 
Lounging in a comfortably furnished dining- 
room were three men in all the enjoyment of 
conversation and tobacco. There was one 
peculiarity about the little gathering — to wit 
— as far as man could judge, there was no 
military man amongst them. 

“ Yes, that was a good bag, Fawcett,” re- 
marked a good-looking middle-aged man, “ but 
you are always so fortunate when you go out 
alone in the jungle.” 

“ Quite right. Judge,” rejoined the other, 


ARRAH. 


good-humouredly. “ I hate to have a fellow 
taking notes of my stories. Embellishment is 
like a sauce to your wild duck. An anecdote 
is flavourless without it. There’s Cole there, 
will serve up the mere dry bones of his day’s 
doings. But don’t we all admit that the 
least reliable history is the best reading.” 

“Ingeniously put, sir,” said the Judge. 
“ You can take a case.” 

“ It’s all very well,” remarked Cole, “ but 
in practical life, we want facts. Think what 
a mess Fawcett would make of my business 
with his little inaccuracies. In engineering, 
we require things correct to an inch.” 

They were a capital contrast these two men, 
and the source of unfailing amusement to 
Judge Lepel. Fawcett was a popular man in 
spite of his peculiar weakness. He was no 
utterer of malicious untruths, but about his 
own exploits of flood and field, he was a veri- 
table Munchausen. Nobody ever believed 
his accounts of what he had done either shoot- 
ing or pig sticking. He knew it and laughed 
at it. But he had an ineradicable disposition 
to hoax his hearers on these points. If his 
stories were not altogether true, he told them 
well, and as he said himself. “ Who looks for 
veracity in an anecdote ? ” 

“ Let me see,” said Fawcett, “ you expect 


30 


HAD TO BEAT. 


Miss Lepel in a day or two now, do you 
not?” 

“ Yes, she is on her way up country, and 
should be here to-morrow or the day after. I 
camped here on purpose to pick her up 
and show her a bit of tent life to start 
with.” 

“Yes, Judge, but it wasn’t likely you were 
going to remain in that camp while I had a 
comfortable bungalow within a quarter of a 
mile of you. No, here you stay, as long 
as you are in reasonable distance of Arrah.” 

“ It’s a pity. Judge, you should have 
chosen this time for Miss Lepel to come 
out to you. There are ugly stories about 
of discontent amongst the Sepoys at Dina- 
pore.” 

“ I have been in India this thirty years, on 
and off, and we have had mutinies before, I 
don’t think this is likely to spread much 
further. The authorities seem to have been 
somewhat supine in their action, instead of 
putting it down with a high hand, and the 
consequence is, we have for the time lost 
Delhi. Still, I own I shall be very glad to 
see Molly safe here.” 

“Well, I hope I may be all wrong. Judge,” 
rejoined Cole quietly, “ but I wish that 
my wife was in England just at present.” 


ARRAn. SI 

“ You old croaker ! ” exclaimed Fawcett. 
“ You are always talcing the gloomiest views 
of things. When we go shooting you always 
prophesy the worst of luck,” 

“ Well, I can’t shoot like you, you know, 
more especially with your own peculiar 
weapon.'’ 

“ A fair hit,” cried the Judge. “ Now a 
certain man drew a bow at a venture ” 

“ You villain,” laughed Fawcett. “ Have 
some more claret or a brandy and soda, if 
you like it better, but no more of your 
Jeremiads, ‘ An thou lov’st me, Hal ! ’ ” 

“Well, I think I will fill myself a beaker 
of the more potent fluid. I should like to 
drink out of that silver goblet, if I may. Let 
me look at it.” • 

“By all means!” rejoined their host. 
“ Here, boy, a brandy and seltzer for the 
Sahib.” 

Cole took the silver cup and examined it 
for a minute or two previous to holding it out 
to the servant to be filled. It was a plain, 
rather handsome goblet, with an inscription 
on it to the effect that it was “ presented to 
John Fawcett for having saved the life of 
Edward Kennard in June ’55.” 

“ Why, Fawcett,” continued Cole, “ how 
is it we never heard of this deed of heroism ? 


3 


33 


BAD TO beat. 


You re not the man to conceal your light 
under a bushel, and yet you have never told 
us this story.” 

“ All the better,” cried the Judge, “ because 
he is going to do so now.” 

“I have not the slightest objection,” replied 
the host, with a twinkle in his eye, “ and wliat- 
ever you may think, I beg to remark that this 
is a perfectly true narrative. Well, in that 
year,” continued Fawcett, “I was down at 
Bombay. I had gone there to spend my 
furlough with some old friends who had just 
come out from England. And a very good 
time we had of it. There was lots going on, 
dinners and whist at the Byculla Club, the 
races and balls and dances no end. One of 
the pleasantest fellows in our little coterie was 
Kennard, but, poor fellow, he was born under 
a malignant star. Whatever we were about, 
he always came to grief. If anyone’s buggy 
was kicked to pieces, Kennard was sure to be 
in it. If anyone came down in a ball- 
room, you might bet your life Kennard would 
fall over him ; the same at whist, it wasn’t 
that he played so badly, but he was such an 
unlucky beggar, that we all rather dreaded 
him as a partner. Well, of course, amongst 
other things we were bound to go and see the 
caves of Elephanta, and started a good boat- 


ARRAS. 


33 


full of US for that purpose. It is some little 
way across the harbour, and there happened 
to be a good bit of wind, which made the boat 
lie over slightly. How it happened I don’t 
know, nobody else’s hat blew off, but Ken- 
nard’s suddenly disappeared into the water ; 
he leant over the gunwale, to snatch at it 
before it should be out of reach, and in the 
twinkling of ah eye he had followed his hat. 
The crew were very smart, the sail was down 
and the oars were out as quick as possible. 
Still, before we could stop our way and 
turn round he was some distance astern. 
Luckily he could swim a little, and we could 
see him struggling in the water. I got into 
the bow to be all ready to catch hold of him, 
the men pulled like demons ; I kept giving 
him cheers of encouragement, and signalling 
with my hands to the man at the helm where 
to steer. He was about beat as we got up to 
him. I made one grab at him and just 
missed him. I thought it was all over, and 
called to them to look out for him astern. 
Luckily there was a good man there, and this 
lellow managed to get hold of him. We had 
pretty hard work to get him into the boat, 
and he was insensible when 'wftsjnanaged it. 
Well, we set to work, chafed his temples with 
spirit — I luckily had a flask of brandy in my 


34 


BAD TO BEAT, 


pocket — and as he began to show signs of 
animation, I managed to force a little down 
his throat. The neat spirit seemed to revive 
him, and seeing that, I gave him another stiff 
dose. In a few minutes, thanks to my exer- 
tions, I had the satisfaction of seeing him 
make an attempt to sit up, and hearing him 
inquire faintly where he was. Ah, Judge, 
there is a great satisfaction in saving the life 
of a fellow-creature ! ” 

“ But,” exclaimed Cole, “ you never went 
in after him, nor were you the fellow that 
pulled him out of the water. I don’t quite 
see where you come in ! ” 

“ There you go again. Cole, with your 
nasty hypercritical remarks. I should like 
to know where he would have been without 
that gulp of brandy. It was that that 
did it.” 

“ And,” enquired the Judge, struggling 
with his laughter, “ do you mean to say that 
Kennard presented you with that cup for 
saving his life ? ” 

“ Most certainly I do He knew the 
friendly hand that had administered the 
spirit. I don’t think, somehow,” continued 
Fawcett reffectively, “ that he ever did quite 
know who pulled him out of the water.” 

“ And I suppose the Royal Humane Society 


ARB AH. 


85 


have sent you their medal ? ” said Cole, 
laughing. 

“ Well, no,” replied Fawcett. “ I’m not 
one of those pushing fellows, you know. 
Some men are always applying for decora- 
tions, whether they have earned them or not. 
That’s not my form.” 

“ But to revert to what we were talking 
about, before Fawcett began his interesting 
anecdote. Have you any grounds. Cole, 
further than bazaar gossip, for saying there is 
a spirit of disaffection abroad amongst the 
Sepoys ? ” 

“ Most undoubtedly. Judge,” replied Cole, 
rather lowering his voice. “ I know for cer- 
tain, for I was there the other day, that the 
authorities at Hinapore were excessively un- 
easy. They say the Sepoys are growing more 
insolent day by day, and you know very well. 
Judge, that when the native dares to be inso- 
lent to the white man it is an ominous sign of 
a coming struggle between the races. We 
only exist here by right of conquest, and that 
the conquered invariably rise against their 
masters is an old-world history.” 

“Yes,” remarked Fawcett, “ and the whole 
history of India is simply that of conquest, 
I don’t like, I say honestly, what you tell me 
about their mistrusting the native troops of 


36 


BAD TO BEAT. 


Dinapore We know the spirit of mutiny is 
abroad, and that they have had trouble in 
other places.” 

“ Yes,” said Cole, “ and now I will tell you 
another thing. The Commissioner of Patna 
is as uneasy about his district as they are at 
Dinapore, but he is a man of tremendous 
energy, which the general at Dinapore is not, 
and to prove to you the correctness of my 
information, you will see a company of Sikhs 
march into Arrah before forty-eight hours are 
over at furthest.” 

Judge Lepel sat very silent after Cole’s last 
remarks. He was not the man to feel nervous 
about facing a mutiny himself, but he might 
well look grave when he thought that he had 
brought his daughter out only to share its 
dangers and possible horrors. He did not 
require Cole to point out to him what happened 
when servile races rose and got the better 
of their masters, and in this case there 
would be all the fierce fanaticism of differ- 
ence of creed to still further embitter the 
struggle. Cole’s quiet resolute tones had at 
last carried conviction to both his hearers. 
They had begun by laughing at him, but the 
scofiers had become believers. Both did 
know there was a spirit of disaffection abroad 
in Bengal, but, as was the case at that time 


ABRAH. 


37 


in so many places, people would not believe 
that it could extend to their own station 
until the storm actually burst. Cole’s 
positive assertion as to the coming of the 
Sikhs carried conviction to both his auditors 
that, at all events, the Commissioner of 
Patna had doubts about the security of 
Arrah. 

“ Well,” said Fawcett at length, “ so far 
we’ve been in this condition, if we have had 
no soldiers to protect us, we, at all events, 
have had to dread no mutiny. Now, these 
Sikhs, perhaps, will prove traitors to their 
salt.” 

“ No,” said Cole, “ I don’t think that. As 
for these high-class Sepoys, good soldiers as 
they have been in the past, I don’t think they 
are in the least to be trusted in the present. 
If I were in authority I wouldn’t leave a 
musket in their hands. Now, the Sikhs are 
a very different thing. It’s some ten years 
since we conquered the Punjaub, and very 
hard work, as you know, we found it ; but 
those fellows have accepted our rule ever 
since. They are splendid soldiers with no 
sympathy whatever for the Sepoys, we have 
lots of them in our service, and I think they 
will stand true to us. Fly at our throats 
like wild cats they may again, one of these 


38 


BAD TO BEAT. 


days, but tliey’ll not join bands with the 
Sepoys.” 

“ If you are right about the Sikhs, as 
Fawcett says,” remarked the Judge, “ we 
shall have nothing here of the mutiny. But 
I suppose, if this sort of thing spreads, for 
instance, should Dinapore go, the mutineers 
would be quite likely to loot Arrah en passant, 
and we should be perfectly defenceless here.”. 

“Well,” said Cole, “I have a wife to take 
care of, and I’ve no idea of dying like a 
sheep m3’self. I have two houses in my 
compound, and the smaller one, which 
commands the other, I’ve been for some 
lime busily engaged in fortifying ; it may be 
all nonsense, but, as I’ve told you, I don’t 
like the signs of the times. I don’t suppose 
we could hold out very long, but we certainly 
could for a few days, with the assistance of 
these Sikhs, which would give us a chance of 
being rescued on the one hand, while on the 
other, if we must die, we should die like 
men.” 

“ Of course, old man, we must throw in 
our lots with you ; we shall have nothing 
else to do for it ; and though I hope we 
shall chaff you for a year or two afterwards 
about your citadel, yet it is possible we may 
have to thank you for our lives.” 


ARBAH, 


S9 

** I’ve a wife to think of, you see,” returned 
Cole, with a sad smile, “ and for her sake I 
daren’t neglect a single precaution. If the 
storm does burst at Dinapore, it will be 
impossible to say how far it will spread, 
or what will be the consequences. But 
wherever these mutineers get the upper 
hand, those taken alive will envy the fallen 
their fate.” 

“ Cole,” said the Judge, rising, and with a 
slight quiver in his voice, “ I thank you now, 
though God grant we may never need your 
citadel. Good God ! to think that I should 
have sent for Molly at this unlucky time.” 


CHAPTEE IV. 


WINCHESTER BARRACKS. 

GEEAT contrast to our last picture. 



A Instead of a tropic night with the 
Southern Cross shining high in the sky, we 
have the Great Bear and the cold stars of 
the northern hemisphere. It is March, and 
a bitter nor’-easter whistles round the Win- 
chester Barracks, swirls round the gateway of 
the “ George Inn,” suggestive of mulled ale to 
the ostlers and stable men in the yard, and 
even seducing some of the young gentlemen 
of the garrison to drop into the bar of that 
famous hostelry for a glass of the egg-flip for 
which it is celebrated. It whistles down 
the High Street, and makes the hurrying pas- 
sengers pull up the collars of their coats, and 
hasten their already rapid steps towards their 
firesides. It shrieks and frolics round the 
Cathedral close, but the tombstones laugh it 
to scorn, and those that lie under them reck 
little of its chilly blast. The grim old cathe- 
dral has seen too many March winds to take 
much heed of it. It holds its mighty dead 


WINCHESTER BARRACKS. 


41 


from the time when Winchester was virtually 
capital of England, from the days when St. 
Swithin declined to be buried within its walls. 
Once more the nor’-easter goes whistling 
round the barracks, making the sentries 
tramp hurriedly up and down their beats, 
driving the men into the canteen, filling the 
ante-room, and bringing together more than 
one cosy party in the officers’ quarters. 

Let us take a peep into one of these. A 
room looking over the big square, comfortably 
but plainly furnished. The red curtains are 
drawn across the windows, in one of which 
stands a writing-table, in the other a window- 
lounge. There is an easy-chair upon each 
side of the fire-place, wherein burns a bright 
and comforting fire. Over the mantel-piece is 
an elaborate whip-rack, in which whips and 
sticks of all descriptions figure, tandem whips, 
hunting crops, relentless, sharp -cutting racing 
whips, ash plants, and park canes. Two or 
three racing prints, two or three spirited pen- 
and-ink drawings and a couple of good 
engravings decorate the walls. On one side 
of the fire-place is a neat, well-furnished book- 
case, on the other a somewhat elaborate pipe- 
rack surmounts a peculiar arrangement for 
containing innumerable spurs and boots. 
Boots and spurs seem as multifarious as 


42 


BAD TO BEAT. 


the whips. There are butcher boots, top- 
boots, varnished Napoleons, et cetera. Spurs, 
straight-rowelled, swan necked box spurs, 
hunting-spurs, even crane-necked racing 
spurs. On the sofa lies a well-stained red 
coat, with corresponding cord breeches beside 
it. A pair of terribly splashed top-boots, to 
which the spurs are still buckled, are thrown 
carelessly on the floor. On the round table in 
the centre of the room are scattered periodi- 
cals, cigar-cases, and a pair of dog-skin gloves. 
There are a couple of swords in one corner 
of the room, and a couple of forage-caps, in 
company with divers other head-gear, share 
some half-dozen pegs. A fox-terrier lids 
basking on the hearth-rug. The whole fur- 
nishes a picture of mild bachelor sybaritism. 
Nobody could entertain the slightest doubt 
but what this is the abode of a soldier and 
a sportsman. A glance at the book-shelf 
still further confirms it, where one shelf 
seems given up to books on military tactics 
and volumes of the “ Kacing Calendar.” 

From the inner room came much splashing, 
steam, and an odour of tobacco ; for Denton, 
though hardy sportsman as ever faced tiger 
or rode jealous for first spear, was always 
luxurious in his tastes when opportunity 
afforded, and he held that a hot bath with a 


WINCHESTER BARRACKS. 


43 


cigar was fit crown to a hard day’s work. 
He had had a tedious though not very brilliant 
day with the H. H. The meet had been 
distant, and the ride home long. And now, 
his ablutions being about finished, he was 
lazily smoking a cigar preparatory to dressing 
for mess. A sharp tap at the door was 
twice repeated before it caught his ear. 

“ Who the devil is it ? ” he asked angrily, 
for he was more in the humour to finish his 
cigar in an arm-chair in front of the fire 
than to hold converse with his fellows. 

“ It’s me,” responded the voice of Bobby 
Nuthall. “May I come in?” 

“ Yes,” replied Denton. “ Come in. Take 
a cigar if you want one, and sit down. I’ll 
come out and talk to you in a few 
minutes.” 

“All right,” replied Nuts, and that free- 
and-easy young gentleman adapted himself to 
circumstances without further invitation. 

A few minutes elapsed, and then Denton, 
emerging from the adjoining room, lounged 
leisurely up to the fire-place and said : 

“Now young ’un, what is it? What’s the 
matter ? Has that old screw of Cheviott’s 
that you and he think so much of broke 
down ? ” 

“ No ; I say, Denton, you needn’t disparage 


44 


BAD TO BEAT. 


tlie old horse. He’s wonderful ‘ fit,’ and I tell 
YOU what, I’ve been touting a bit down there, 
and if you can only do one, you ought to 
win.” 

“ I understand,” said Denton, smiling 
“ You’ve discovered there’s a ‘ chaser ’ 
entered amongst all these hunters, that looks, 
rather awkward for our money.” 

“ Yes, that fellow Micklam, the horse 
dealer, has entered one that, though it has 
never won a steeplechase, he considers quite 
up to that form. He’s a rattling good rider, 
and will be on it himself.” 

“ Well, ‘ Nuts,’ if that’s the one you expect 
me to do, it will be very awkward unless 
Micklam has made some mistake about it. I 
know what it is ; when a steeplechaser gets in 
amongst hunters they’re all outpaced. They 
can’t go quick enough even to make him 
fall. There’s nothing but an accident can 
save us.” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Mr. Nuthall. “ You 
don’t suppose when I heard we had such an 
awkward antagonist in the field, that I wasn’t 
going to make out all I could about her ? 
They’re pretty dark about letting anyone see 
her gallop, and I’m told that as far as that 
goes, she’s got you all, safe as houses, but I 
did manage to see Micklam schooling her, 


Winchester barracks. 


45 


she’s a grand fencer, but I’ve found out one 
thing, she has a bit of a temper, and if anything 
happens to upset that, I think you may have 
a rare chance I saw her the other day’’ 
take fence after fence without hesitation or 
mistake, suddenly she came to a little bit of a 
place, which apparently did not meet her 
ladyship’s approval. She whipped round in a 
way which would have sent a good many 
fellows out of the saddle, and it took him a 
minute or two’s coaxing to get the mare 
over.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Denton, “ there’s always a 
chance against one of that kind, but wliat’s 
the news in Kent ? Did y’ou see anything 
of the Miss Ly'^ddells ? ” 

“Yes, I saw them once or twice. That 
pretty cousin of theirs, they told me, sailed 
for India as she threatened. I’ve got a 
message for you from the Squire, he wants us 
very much to come down a week before the 
steeplechases. He thinks you would like to 
give old Trumpeter a gallop or two y’ourself, 
and make his acquaintance, not that he’s a 
horse that wants any riding.” 

“ All right,” replied Denton, “ there’s not 
much doing in this place except the hunting, 
and we’ve been unlucky even with that.” 

“ Ah ! had a bad day, I suppose,” replied 


46 


BAD 10 BEA1. 


Mr. Nuthall, “ I’ve noticed you always pitch 
into the place and its inhabitants when that 
is the case.” 


“ Well, it does rather embitter one,” re- 
joined Denton, laughing. “Now, Master Nuts 
if you’ve the slightest intention of attending 
mess, you had better be off to dress. The 
first bugle sounded a good quarter of an hour 
ago.” 


Mr. Nuthall took the hint, jumped out of 
his chair, and hurried off to his own quarters. 

As soon as Mr. Nuthall had left, Denton 
drew a small memorandum book from the 
pocket of his dressing-jacket, and after run- 
ning his eye over it, muttered: “£i,150! 
Champagne must have induced you to bet 
bold that night. Master Bobby; still, £1,150 
to £150 is a nice average about one’s horse’s 
chance as things go, and I am going halves 
with you in this. Well ! it will be a very 
nice little stake to pull off’. I’m not parti- 
cularly hard up, but I can do with five 
hundred odd, as w^ell as most people, besides 
which, ninety-five pounds, his half of it, if we 
lose, will be rather a facer for Master Bobby. 
Well! as long as my most dangerous foe is 
a bad-tempered one, there is a pretty good 
chance. I’m jockey enough to know how 
to upset the equanimity of an animal of that 


WINCHESTER BARRACKS. 


47 


kind. Yes ! I don’t dislike our chance at 
all.” And -with that he snapped to the 
betting-book, and arose to slip on his mess 
jacket. 

Then his thoughts ran into another channel 
and instead of continuing his toilet, he 
lounged before the fire, and his memory 
travelled back over some of his old Indian 
days. How dreadfully hard hit he had been 
at Poonah, by little blue-eyed Lucy Wilson, 
the daughter of the general there. He 
smiled grimly as he thought what a dust 
there had been about that flirtation of his 
ensign days How he had been wigged by 
his own colonel for his presumption, and how 
Lucy had been stormed at by her parent, 
for having no proper pride in her position ; 
how miserable they had both been at the 
time, and how, when he met her five or six 
years afterwards, she was a plump little 
matron, the wife of a collector. Well! he 
had troubled his head little about women 
since then, “ but,” he muttered as he strolled 
into his bedroom, “ I should rather like to 
see that Miss Lepel again.” 

Mr. Nuthall’s entrance to the mess-room 
was the signal for quite a little ovation. 
That popular young gentleman was hailed 
by all sorts of familiar epithets. 

4 


SAB TO BEAT. 


48 


“ What, my Bobbetts,” exclaimed one of 
his brother subs. 

“ Bobby, my boy, how goes it ? ” cried 
another. 

“ ‘ Nuts,’ old fellow, how are you ? ” said a 
third. And then there was much hand- 
shaking and considerable chafi‘ about the 
business Nuts had been away about. 

They all knew he was managing a horse 
entered for a steeplechase, and were all under 
the impression that he was to ride this noble 
animal himself, and as there was not much 
belief in Bobby’s powers as a horseman, his 
chances were always much derided by his 
comrades. 

“ Is the Jerusalem pony doing nicely ? ” 
enquired one. 

“ Shut up,” retorted another, “ Bobby has 
been having a course of lessons from George 
I'ordham.” 

“ You’re both wrong,” exclaimed another ; 
“ he has been trying to insure his life, but I 
suppose they wouldn’t look at it, Bobby. 
Besides, old man, it would be no use if they 
did, because your riding a steeplechase would 
be given as suicide, and the insurance com- 
panies don’t part over suicides or capital 
punishment.” 

“ Well, you fellows haven’t let your 


WINCHESTER BARRACKS. 


49 


tongues get rusty since I’ve been away,” 
retorted Bobby, grinning ; “ and wliat’s more, 
you all display the same passion for talking 
about what you don’t understand as when I 
left you.” 

“Nuts is getting sarcastic,” rejoined one 
of his auditors ; “ the idea of that ride he 
has got to take makes him as uncomfortable 
as Mazeppa ” 

“ ‘ 111 betide the school in which I learnt 
to ride,’ eh, Bobby ? ” 

“ Do hold your gabble, here’s dinner,” said 
Mr. Nuthall, as the mess butler announced 
it. “ Come and sit with me at the bottom 
of the table, and I'll tell you fellows all 
about it” 

And, the keen edge taken off their youthful 
appetites, Bobby proceeded to explain to 
some of his cronies what this bit of racing 
was that he was engaged in. 

“ You see, you fellows, I ain’t quite a fool, 
and if there’s one thing I pique myself upon, 
it’s knowing what I can’t do. Now I can 
have a good deal of fun in my own wmy 
after the hounds, but I never delude myself 
with the idea that I’m a ‘ customer,’ and as 
for riding in a steeplechase, well, you know 
I mio'ht, but I think it is very improbable ; 
and I should recommend you to bet against 


50 


BAD TO BEAT. 


me if I did. No, the fact is, I was staying 
down at Squire Cheviott’s for that ball, you 
know, and they were talking over the Hunt 
Steeplechases, when the Squire said he would 
enter a' capital good horse he has, only he 
had no one to ride it, and I chipped in and 
said ‘ You find the horse. Squire, and I’ll find 
the man.’ It was in the billiard-room, and 
there was such a torrent of chaff sprung upon 
me at once, that, by Jove, you know, it was 
quite like being in one’s own mess-room, and 
they began offering all sorts of odds against 
Trumpeter. At last I shot one of them, 
saying at the same time ‘ Mind, I never said 
that I would ride myself, I only said that I 
woxdd find a man.’ However, after some 
discussion, the layer agreed the bet should 
stand.” 

“ ddien,” exclaimed one of his auditors, 
“ the cock-and-bull story we had got hold of 
all resolves itself into the fact that you have 
backed a horse for a steeplechase ? ” 

“ Well, not quite. There’s a little more 
than that to tell, Jemtny. You see, we went 
to the ball that night, and I went in for 
all the fun of the fair. I knew no end of 
pretty ghis there, and what with the flirting, 
valsing, and champagne at supper, one felt 
very ‘fit.’ Well, after a rattling deux temps 


WINCnBSTER BABItACKS. 


51 


with one of the best goers I ever danced 
with, I went down to the supper-room in 
search of a ‘ modest quencher.’ There were a 
lot of fellows there, all talking about this 
steeplechase, and betting about it. They 
chaffed me a good deal about what they were 
pleased to denominate my horse, and the end 
of it was I made a fool of myself and backed 
him for a hatful of money. A precious deal 
more than I can aftord. And I can only say 
if he don’t win, you may as well put this 
child on orderly duty for a twelvemonth, for 
he’ll have no money left to go about with.” 

“ Well, Nuts, it strikes me the first thing 
to be done about getting out of this scrape is 
to find a jockey.” 

“ I’ve done that. If I hadn’t had a right 
good man in my eye I should never have 
made that first bet. As for the others, they 
were the results of champagne and high 
spirits.” 

“ Who have you got ? Who’s to ride, 
Bobby ? ” 

“ Well, I can’t tell you that. I am not 
sure that he would like it, and as it’s deuced 
good of him to help me out of this scrape, 
I’m bound to keep silence on that point.” 

“ Well,” said Jemmy Palliser, “ it is rather 
a bore, standing a ‘ perisher,’ I admit, but 


es 


BAD TO BEAT. 


still. Nuts, with a right good man and a right 
good horse, I don’t see that you’ve much 
need to be unhappy about it. I daresay 
some of us here could help you out a little. 
I can’t afford to bet much, but just for the 
fun of the thing, I shouldn’t mind standing a 
‘ tenner ’ in your book. 

“ Nor I,” said one or two more. 

“ Well, it’s awfully good of you fellows,” 
replied Bobby, “ and if things had been as I 
believed when I made those bets, I’d have 
thanked you gaily, and could have honestly 
said, I thought you’d have a real good show 
for your money. I have since found out that 
there’s .a steeple-chase mare amongst the 
entries, and bar accidents, she is much too 
good for the rest of the field.” 

“ Never mind. Nuts,” replied Palliser, 
“ let’s piously trust she will break her rider’s 
neck at an early stage of the proceedings. 
He must be a ‘ sweep ’ to have spoiled sport, 
by entering an animal of that class.” 

“ Well, Palliser, let us trust your wish 
may be accomplished ; in the meantime, 
pass the claret, and let us drink success to 
Trumpeter ; ” and that rite performed with 
due solemnity, the party broke up, and ad- 
journed to the adjoining room, in pursuit of 
a cigar. 


CHAPTER V. 


“‘nuts’ puzzled.” 


HERE is pretty much the same party 



assembled round the dinner -table at 


St. Helen’s, as there was on the evening of 
the Hunt Ball. The steeple-chase is to come 
off the next day, and the conversation may 
be described emphatically as horsey. Sande- 
man, the Squire, and one or two more of 
his guests, have horses running, and each is 
convinced his nomination would win, were 
that brown mare of Mr. Micklam’s out of 
it. Everybody’s voice is raised in terrible 
condemnation of that luckless horse-dealer. 

“ It’s just like a beggar of that sort,” 
growled Sandeman, “ to go and enter a 
clipper like that, and spoil aU our fun. It 
promised to be as sporting an affair as we’ve 
had in the neighbourhood for many a year ; 
it would have been a real open race with 
Kathleen out of it. Don’t you think so. 
Squire ?” 

“ Yes,” replied Cheviot! ; “ and if you re- 
collect, I warned you in the billiard-room 


64 


BAD TO BEAT. 


on the night of the ball, that that mare of 
Micklam’s was pretty good, though I’ll own 
I had not the faintest idea so good as I now 
hear she is. In short. Captain Denton,” con- 
tinued the Squire with old-fashioned polite- 
ness, “ I should never have thought of asking 
you to ride my old horse, had I been aware 
that you had anything of that class against 
you.” 

Denton had taken very little part in the 
conversation so far. He sat sipping his claret, 
and listening to the babble of tongues around 
him, as if he really had nothing whatever to do 
with the matter in hand. There had been con- 
siderable wagering amongst the convives, but 
it had taken the form of backing one horse 
against another in their places. Everybody 
seemed to look upon it as a foregone con- 
clusion, that Mr. Micklam’s Kathleen must 
win. Thus directly appealed to, he replied : 

“ I don’t know. Squire ; I’ve seen too much 
of racing to believe in these extraordinary 
‘ good things.’ I have laid one hundred to 
thirty on myself, and paid it before now. 
You all think this is a foregone conclusion, 
and, as far as I can make out, only upon the 
grounds that Kathleen has the heels of us 
all, and that her owner declares she is steeple- 
chase class. Of course, speed is the great 


•‘•JVUTS’ puzzled: 


55 


thing, but it’s not quite everything, when 
you come to three miles across country. 
I can only say, I will take five to one about 
Trumpeter to some money, if anybody likes 
to lay it.” 

“ Well, Captain Denton,” exclaimed a some- 
what boisterous, red-faced man, at the bottom 
of the table, “ you can have five fifties if you 
like.” 

“ You may put it down twice, Mr. Ingleton, 
if 5'^ou choose,” was the cool reply. 

“ No, thank you,” and for the first time the 
prestige of Kathleen was shaken. 

None of them had ever seen Denton ride, 
none of them knew much about him, but he 
was one of those men who gave the idea of 
being bad to beat at whatsoever he might 
choose to back himself. One thing they had 
seen him do, and that was shoot, and that 
he was a fine shot admitted of no dispute. 
But Denton was one of those men who always 
impressed his fellows with the notion of 
power. In whatever he might mix with 
them, it seemed only natural that he should 
take the lead ; and in this case, although there 
was nothing to justify them in regarding 
him as an authority, yet the doubt he had 
expressed regarding Kathleen’s ultimate 
triumph had somehow communicated con 


6S 


BAD TO BEAT. 


fidence to his auditors, and Sandeman was 
encouraged to take the odds about his own 
horse from Mr. Ingleton, who was making a 
book upon the race. 

As for Bobby Nuthall, he sat transfixed at 
Denton’s sayings and doings. Since that con- 
versation in the barrack room at Winchester, 
Denton had persistently declined any dis- 
cussion on the subject, meeting all Mr. 
Nuthall’s overtures in that way, and they 
were numerous, with a curt “ Don’t bother. 
Nuts, I’ll see about things when the time 
comes.” Since he had been at St. Helen’s he 
had also somewhat irritated the Squire with 
his apparent want of interest in Trumpeter. 
He had gone down to see him the day after 
he had arrived there, scanned him narrowly, 
and then said he would just put his leg 
over him. He then cantered him in the 
park, and taking him outside larked him over 
a few fences, and jumping off when he came 
into the stable yard, simply remarked : “ Nice 
hunter. Squire, and I daresay will run honest 
as far as his capabilities go.” 

As for Mr Cheviott’s old stud groom, he 
simply snorted with indignation ; that the best 
hunter in their stud should be spoken of so 
contemptuously, was a thing that roused much 
indignation in his breast. 


NUTS' puzzled: 


67 


“ He did not believe that soldier chap could 
ride at all,” he remarked to his assistants, 
“ These military events are all very well. Oh, 
yes, bless yer. They’re as neat as new pins, 
from their shiny boots to their white ties and 
horseshoe pins. They dresses the character 
all very nice, but when it comes to going for 
the stuff, I likes one who looks a bit more 
of a workman.” 

Mr. Nuthall, as has been before remarked, 
was possessed of astuteness beyond his years. 
He argued with himself that Denton was not 
the man to make this unexpected demonstra- 
tion in favour of his mount, without excellent 
reason. He knew that Denton was as cool, 
clear-headed a man as ever stepped, little 
likelj'' to be carried away by emotion at any 
time, but never in any matter connected with 
the turf. He knew, too, which none of his 
brother officers did, for Denton was a reticent 
man, and not given to talk of his exploits by 
flood or field, that Denton had been one of 
the crack race riders of India, and that about 
anything connected with that di verson he 
was a wonderfully shrewd judge. 

“ Now,” argued Master Bobby, as he silently 
sipped his claret, “ Denton must have dis- 
covered something during the last day or two. 
What can it be ? As for his having found out 


68 


BAD TO BEAT. 


hidden virtues in Trumpeter, that can’t be 
the case, for he has never even given him a 
gallop, and riled the Squire not a little by his 
contemptuous indifference as to the training 
of the old horse, but all the same, Denton is 
not the man to offer to back Trumpeter for 
another hundred in the face of that mare of 
Micklam’s, unless he knew something.” And 
while Nuts was still cudgelling his brains 
as to what that something could be, the 
Squire rose, and suggested an adjournment 
to the billiard room. 

It was the fashion at St. Helen’s, at these 
bachelor parties, to eschew the drawing-room 
altogether. Kit Cheviott generally gathered 
his guests after dinner in the billiard room, 
where they consumed tobacco ad libitum, and 
amused themselves with pool or cards, for 
there was a card table placed at one side of 
the fire-place, as they pleased, and Nuts 
thought that in this break-up of the party he 
should get an opportunity of questioning 
Denton. The latter elected to join the "whist 
table, but Mr. Nuthall contrived to get hold 
of him for one moment, and observed, “ You 
seem rather to fancy old Trumpeter’s chance 
after all.” 

“ The horse looks very well, and is a nice 
fencer,” rejoined Denton curtly, as he drew a 


'"NUTS' PUZZLED.' 


69 


card at the whist table. “ Well, he don’t 
mean to tell me much, that’s pretty evident,” 
thought Mr. Nuthall. Even during the pool 
playing, Bobby’s mind still ran upon Denton’s 
mysterious proceedings. He had barely noticed 
it at the time, but he recollected now that 
the Captain had disappeared immediately after 
luncheon, and had not been seen again till 
dinner. He had thought nothing of it, 
but he recollected now that the Squire 
had enquired two or three times what had 
become of Denton, and that the latter on 
his re-appearance had only muttered some- 
thing about having been busy writing letters, 
and then going for a solitary stroll. Nuts, 
indeed, was so dreadfully exercised in his 
mind about Denton’s incomprehensible doings 
that he committed two or three solecisms at 
pool, somewhat galling to a young gentle- 
man who piqued himself upon his extreme 
proficiency in that game. He played upon 
the wrong ball, and missed such an extremely 
easy shot at Sandeman’s as to provoke a 
roar of laughter, and inquiries as to whether 
they were in partnership. 

But the whist table breaks up, the pool 
comes to an end, and there is a general ad- 
journment in pursuit of slippers and smoking 
jackets previous to repairing to the smoking 


60 


BAD TO BEAT, 


room for a final cigar. Mr. Nuthall could 
stand it no longer, but made his way promptly 
to Denton’s room. 

“ Well, Nuts, what is it ?” enquired the 
captain. 

“ I say, aren’t you coming down,” enquired 
Bobby, upon seeing that Denton had made 
no attempt, as yet, to change his dress-clothes. 

“ No,” replied the other. “ I’ve had one 
cigar to-night, and too much tobacco and too 
much brandy and soda is bad for the wind. 
I’m not riding my first race, recollect, by 
many a chalk, and I mean old Trumpeter to 
have every chance I can give him to-morrow, 
and am not going to fall into the mistake of 
being beat before my horse, but I’ll tell you 
what you can do for me, and a bit for your- 
self too. If there’s any more betting you may 
back Sandeman’s horse, as far as fifty pounds, 
if they will lay fours.” 

“ Back Sandeman !” 

“ Yes, Nuts ; don’t manifest astonishment, 
but simply do the commission you are en- 
trusted with, if you have the chance.” 

“ But what have you heard ? ” exclaimed 
Mr. Nuthall, utterly bewildered. 

“ I haven’t so much heard, as I’ve seen. 
I’ve not thrown the three or four days I’ve 
been here away ; I saw Micklam’s mare take 


•“NUTS’ pvzzlbb: 


61 


her final gallop at seven o’clock this morning. 
They have galloped her till she is as dry as a bis- 
cuit ; she’ll last, because she is so much better 
class than the others, but her temper won’t. 
She was fretful and irritable this morning, she 
is over-trained and she’ll never get round the 
course to-morrow. Training always finds 
out a queer tempered one, more especially 
when it’s overdone. We ought to back 
Sanderaan a little, just to save ourselves. If 
any one beats me to-morrow it will be he. 
And now, good-night. I was up deuced early 
this morning, remember, to see Kathleen gallop, 
and feel like doing a good sleep.” 

Mr. Nuthall made his way to the smoking 
room, cogitating deeply upon what he had 
been told. The first thing that was clear to 
him was, that having backed a horse in reck- 
less fashion for more than he could afford, he 
could have selected nobody better than 
Denton to pull him out of the scrape. 

“ By Jove !” he muttered to himself, “ if any 
body could make old Trumpeter win to- 
morrow, it’s Denton. Fancy his finding out 
when Kathleen took her gallops, and being up 
at unholy hours to see her do them ! Well, I 
must just do his bidding to-night, if I can 
manage it. These fellows are quite likely 
to begin betting again over their ’baccy.” 


62 


BAD TO BEAT. 


And with this sage reflection, Mr. Nuthall 
opened the smoking-room door, and proceeded 
to ensconce himself in an arm-chair, behind 
one of his host’s biggest Partagas. With the 
exception of Denton, the whole party were 
gathered there, in every description of 
broidered slipper and gaudy smoking raiment. 
Sandeman, especially, was particularly brilliant 
in a coat of many colours, which represented 
those of his racing jacket, and with the crest 
of the Sandeman’s blazoned in gold on the 
toes of his dark blue velvet slippers. He was 
a good horseman, and one of the hardest 
riders in the Hunt, but his experience 
“ between the flags ” was next to nothing. 
He was a man with -considerable belief in 
himself, and had no reason to think that he 
would be called upon to encounter anybody 
possessing much more science than himself 
in the art of jockeyship on the morrow. Mr. 
Micklam no doubt owned a very superior 
mare, but Mr. Micklam, although he had cer- 
tainly won a steeplechase, had had no very 
great practice in race riding 

“Yes,” said Tngleton, “I give you my word 
I believe the story is quite true. Jim Hall 
has done some pretty ’cute things on the turf, 
not to say rum things, but he never did any- 
thing smarter than this. It was at a steeple- 


‘NUTS’ puzzled: 


63 


chase down Croydon way, and Jim was riding 
one not backed for a shilling, one that was 
only started just to get a bit of weight off. 
There were six dr seven runners, and blessed 
if they didn’t all come to grief with the 
exception of Hall and Tom Beamish, the 
professional. Well, wlien Jim saw himself 
left in front, with only Beamish alongside 
him, as they were coming across a grass 
field, he said, Go, on Tom, I’m not trying.’ 

‘ Bless your soul, sir,’ was the reply, ‘ my 
orders are not to win on any account.’ 
‘ Then, damme, I’m off,’ replied Jim, and, 
before Beamish knew where he was, Jim 
Hall had pitched out of his saddle, and 
was lying on his back in the middle of the 
grass field.” 

Several anecdotes of this description 
followed. Indeed, the conversation seemed 
to run more upon successful rascality than 
legitimate sport, but, as yet, there were no 
signs of any further betting. An old hand 
would have known better than to disturb 
Camarina, but Nuts was too impatient to 
discharge himself of his commission to wait. 
Undue anxiety to back a horse invariably 
rouses the suspicion of the layers, and a cor- 
responding shortness in the proffer of odds. 
Bobby’s enquiry as to what Mr. Ingleton 


5 


64 


BAD TO BEAT. 


would lay against The Fiddler (Sandeman’s 
horse) aroused immediate attention. 

“ Why, what on earth are you going over 
to the enemy for ? ” enquired the Squire, 
laughing. 

“ Well ! I’m blessed !” ejaculated Mr. Sande- 
man. “ T fancied you didn’t think I was in it 
with Trumpeter.” 

“I’ll lay you three to one,” replied Mr. 
Ingleton. “ What will you have it to ? ” 

“ It’s not enough,” replied Bobby ; “ I want 
another point.” 

“ Mr. Nuthall,” replied the amateur book- 
maker with assumed solemnity, “ it’s my im- 
pression that you’re in possession of superior 
information, and I decline to spring a point ” 

Bobby cogitated a minute. He was inex- 
perienced in working a commission, however 
small, but suddenly a bright idea struck him. 
“ I’U tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “ I’ll 
take your hundred to fifty, Mr. Ingleton, The 
Fiddler beats Kathleen.” 

“ You can have that,” was the reply, and 
the speaker duly noted the transaction in his 
betting book 

“ Well, Sandeman,” said the Squire, “ we 
shall have your horse first favourite at 
starting.” 

“ I don’t know where Nuthall has got his 


NUTS' PUZZLED^ 


66 

inspiration from,” replied Sandeman, laugh- 
ing, “ but if be is beat to-morrow, it will be 
simply because he has met a better horse.” 

He was young you see at the noble pastime, 
and made no allowance for that great element 
of luck which attends all racing. 

“And now, gentlemen,” cried the host, 
“ unless anybody will have anything more to 
drink, I think we had better go to bed; at 
all events, I am olF there myself.” 

This produced a general move towards the 
candlesticks, and chattering gaily over the 
prospects of the morrow, the party trooped 
up the stairs, towards their respective bed- 
rooms. 


CHAPTEE VI. 


THE RACE. 



N a slight eminence at the edge of a large 


u grass field, is a roughly constructed 
wooden building, which is doing duty as a 
grand stand; it has evidently been run up 
quickly, and is intended to be a mere tem- 
porary erection. To its right is a rough- 
looking sentry box slightly elevated. This is 
the judge’s box, and from the fence, leading 
into this field up to the stand, are rude posts 
and rails, forming the straight run in. On 
the left is an enclosure dignified by the name 
of the Ring, and in which, it is supposed, con- 
siderable betting will eventually take place. 
But this is not likely to any great extent. Some 
three or four local bookmakers, and perhaps 
some half-dozen small speculators from Lon- 
don, constitute the fraternity upon this occa- 
sion. Such wagering as there is — and there is a 
good deal in a small way — is done among the 
farmers and spectators themselves. On both 
sides of the course carriages and vehicles are 
numerous. Here and there you see a party 
of lads and lasses in a waggon from which the 


THE RACE. 


67 


horses have been removed. All sorts of queer 
shandrydans, tax carts, whitechapels, lumber- 
ing old flys, run nearly the whole length of 
the rails. There is much mirth, and much 
laughter, and whatever horse may win it is 
clear that the country folks will be pleased 
with the show and enjoy their outing. 

In the ring the sporting farmers had con- 
gregated, and the local bookmakers have a 
busy time. The London men do not fare so 
well; the bucolic mind is tainted with sus- 
picion, and is loath to bet with the stranger, 
of whom he knows nothing. One of the 
farmers expressed the general sentiment when 
he remarked to his friend : 

“Tom Collins, of the Black Bear, is the 
man for my money, he’s reet as the clock ; 
besides, mun, if he didn’t pay up, we’d wreck 
his bar for ’un next Saturday night ; but I 
don’t fancy these Lunnon gentry. Dal’ it all, 
instead of seeing the race you have to keep 
watchin’ the chap you’ve bet with.” 

Now and again, it is true, a gentleman 
would lounge idly into the ring, to see what 
was doing, but he rarely made any attempt at 
speculation. All that sort of thing they were 
doing amongst themselves in the stand, or had 
transacted on previous occasions, such as in 
the supper-room at the Assembly Booms on 


BAD TO BEAT. 


the night of the Hunt Ball, or round the 
dining table of St. Helen’s. One of the 
loungers in the ring was Mr. Nuthall ; he had 
got more money on this race than he at all 
liked, and though his belief in Denton was 
unbounded, yet he wished himself M'ell out of 
it. It was quite evident that the farmers 
were divided in their allegiance between Mr. 
Micklam’s Kathleen and Mr. Sandeman’s The 
Fiddler. Kathleen Mr. Nuthall understood, 
but he could not quite make out why The 
Fiddler was such a much better favourite than 
Trumpeter, and yet the reason was so very 
obvious. Kit Cheviott had never been a 
“ bruiser,” even in his younger days, and 
though he went well, he certainly did not 
come amongst the category of hard-riders. 
Sandeman, on the contrary, was a young man, 
and perhaps as good a horseman as there 
was in the Hunt, and with any luck he and 
Tlie Fiddler were certain to be well to the 
fore in a “ fast thing.” Then again. Captain 
Denton was simply unknown to them. He 
might ride, he might not ; they Imew no- 
thing about him ; and there certainly is no 
better rule in a race between amateur 
jockeys than that of “ reckoning up the men 
first ; it is time enqugh to think about 
the best horse, when you have settled who is 


IHE RACE. 


69 


the best man. He is generally to be found in 
conjunction with nearly the best, if not the 
best horse in the race.” 

Mr. Nuthall had communicated what he 
had done in the smoking-room to Denton that 
morning, and the captain had rejoined, “Not 
at all bad, Nuts, for a young one ; it’s not 
so good as what I told you to do ; but as you 
couldn’t do that, it was certainly better than 
taking threes about The Fiddler. Of course 
there is all the luck of the race to upset 
calculation. It is just possible that I may 
have gauged one of our adversaries wrongly, 
but as far as I can reckon it up, there are 
only three in it. Trumpeter, The Fiddler, 
and Kathleen. The mare’s temper, I reckon, 
will put her out of it. If they had given her 
a little less work, she would have had it all 
her own way, I fancy ; as it is, I consider it 
lies between Sandeman and myself, and which 
is on the best horse we shall not know till it 
is over.” 

One of the most discontented people at the 
little meeting was Squire Cheviott’s groom. 
Mr. Sliddon, for such was his name, had no 
belief in a jockey who took such slight ap- 
parent interest in his destined mount. Mr. 
Sliddon had expected that the man to whom 
the honour of steering Trumpeter had been 


70 


BAB TO BEAT. 


confided would have been hard to keep out 
of the stable, whereas “ this Captain Denton ” 
seemed utterly indifferent as to whether 
the horse was alive or dead. 

“ What’s the use of my pitching him out, 
bright in the coat, and full of muscle, when 
this here conceited military gent won’t even 
condescend to look at him ? I know what’ll 
happen ; now you see if I’m not right, 
William,” he-' continued, addressing one of 
his subordinates, “ he’ll just ride his head 
off in the first mile, and when he gets down 
he’ll say, ‘ Nice horse, Sliddon, but slow as a 
man.’ ” 

Even the Squire had misgivings about his 
jock. His friends questioned him a good deal 
about where he had picked up Captain Den- 
ton, what were his previous performances, 
who told him he could ride, what induced 
him to put him up, and so on ; and to all 
this the Squire could only reply that he had 
merely Bobby Nuthall’s word for it, and that 
Captain Denton was Trumpeter’s jockey was 
Bobby’s suggestion. Now Mr. Nuthall came 
from those parts. They had all known him 
from his boyhood. He was immensely 
popular, and good at a great many things, 
but in the matter of horses the public did not 
believe in him, and the consequence of all 


THE RACE. 


7V 


these unfavourable rumours was that Mr. 
Nuthall, whenever he plunged into the ring, 
found Trumpeter a rather worse favourite 
than ever. He communicated this to Denton 
with a most serious face, and though the 
latter laughed and rejoined “ We’ve got as 
much as we want on a little go like this, or 
else. Nuts, I’d very soon have him first 
favourite,” still Mr. NuthaU could not with- 
stand that uneasy feeling which people experi- 
ence when the shares they hold drop suddenly 
in the market, or on the turf, when the odds 
against the horse you have backed expand 
ominously. You may know that he is per- 
fectly well, you may know there is no reason 
for this hostility, but you cannot divest your- 
self of the idea that there is no smoke without 
fire, and that the book-makers have some 
mysterious but sufficient cause for their 
determined opposition. 

Pondering over these things, Mr. Nuthall 
walked moodily into the stand, where he was 
immediately hailed by one of the Miss 
Lyddells. 

“ Do come here, Mr. Nuthall ! ” exclaimed 
that young lady. “I have backed Trumpeter 
for gloves, and even for sovereigns, and 1 
am told now that they’re laying all sorts 
of prices against him in the Eing. Is that 


BAD TO BEAl. 


rj 

so ? And if it is, what is the meaning 
of it?” 

“ That is the case,” replied Bobby some- 
what ruefully, “but as for the why — ah, 
stop, here’s his jockey. Denton, you know 
the Miss Lyddells — met them at the Hunt Ball, 
you know — they’ve both gone their last 
shilling upon your mount, and are getting 
nervous. Do reassure them.” 

Denton bowed, and as he took a seat 
beside the young ladies, said : 

“ The horse is perfectly well, and I think I 
can promise you this. Miss Lyddell, that you’ll 
have a very good run for your money ; win, 
I may not, but you may depend, bar acci- 
dents, that I shall be pretty close to whoever 
does.” 

“Come, Ju, that’s inspiriting,” said the 
young lady, “ and we need not bemoan our 
lost gloves as yet. My cousin, Molly Lepel, 
told me. Captain Denton, that you had passed 
a good deal of time in India.” 

“ Yes ; I served there for some years. Have 
you heard of Miss Lepel’s arrival as yet ? ” 

“ No ; there has hardly been time. She 
went overland, and we expect to get a letter 
from her every day. She sent us a scrawl 
from Cairo, so that we know she has got that 
far on her way.” 


THE RACE. 


73 


“ I daresay she will like it — most ladies do. 
Curious enough, I met a Judge Lepel out 
there, who 1 presume is her father.” 

“ Yes, and it is to keep his house that she 
has gone out. He is a widower, and I believe 
has not much longer to serve before retir- 
ing with his pension.” 

“ And perhaps will come home only to be 
disgusted with his native country. It’s often 
the case with the great civil servants. 
They’ve been used, for years, to the life out 
there, and when they come home, their life 
seems cramped, and. our climate detestable. 
But, ha ! here come the competitors for the 
Farmers’ Steeplechase, and they’re not half a 
bad-looking lot either. Miss Lyddell. There’s 
one or two, I think, it’s quite likely we might 
have found troublesome in the big race.” 

“ How, Captain Denton, you’re joking,” 
said the young lady. 

“ Indeed, I am not ; the gentlemen’s horses 
are in better condition, but I’m not sure that 
they have any other pull over the best of the 
farmers’.” 

The Farmers’ Steeplechase now came off, 
and resulted in a very fair, if inartistic, finish 
between three. Then came the hurdle-race, 
and then excitement waxed high, as the 
horses paraded for the event of the day. 


74 


BAD TO BEAT. 


The first horse out of the enclosure was 
Mr. Sandeiiiaii’s grey colt. The Fiddler 
and the rider, in his gay harlequin jacket, 
received quite an ovation as he walked his 
horse leisurely past the stand. There was no 
doubt that he was the popular hero of the 
day. He carried most of the farmers’ money, 
and his horse unmistakeably looked as “ fit ” 
as hands could make him. Although there 
were seven runners, it will be hardly neces- 
sary to particularise them all. The next 
of mark to appear was Mr. Micklam’s 
Kathleen. The rider, in his neat, dark blue 
silk jacket and black cap, wore a somewhat 
anxious expression, and, truth to say, Mr. 
Micklant was quite .as anxious about the 
result of the race as our friend Nuts. He 
also had got a good bit of money on his 
mare, and could not disguise from himself 
that the last week’s training had embittered 
her temper. She reached at her bit, and 
fretted and fidgetted a good deal as she 
went down. The horse-dealer patted her on 
the neck, and soothed her as well as he 
could, but there was no doubt about it that 
Kathleen, to use a ladylike term, “ had got 
the vapours.” The last out of the paddock 
was Trumpeter, and the old horse’s behaviour 
ofiered a singular contrast to that of the 


THE RACE. 


7B 


mare. He paced past the stand quiet as 
a sheep, Denton, in the Squire’s colours 
of chocolate and white cap, lounging on him 
as if he really had not much to do with the 
business in hand, and then the lot turned 
round in their preliminary. Nothing goes 
better past the stand than The Fiddler, who, 
talcing hold of his bit, gallops in downright 
resolute fashion. A flashy going chesnut, 
bestrode by a gentleman in pink, also 
strongly takes the fancy of the spectators. 
The backers of Kathleen look unutterable 
things as they see that volatile mare come 
tearing down the straight, while it is evident 
that Micklam has to do all he knows to hold 
her. At last, again, comes lolloping down old 
Trumpeter, in such sober fashion, that Kit 
Cheviott dashes out of the stand, and rushing 
into the middle of the course, exclaims : 

“ Captain Denton ! Captain Denton ! ” 
Denton, who has already pulled up, turns 
in his saddle, and enquires : 

“ Well, Squire, what is it ? ” 

“ The old horse seems to run dull in your 
hands, but remember this, he always was a bit 
of a slug, and though he wakes up fast enough 
when hounds are running. I’m not sure he 
takes much interest in this game.” - 

“ Don’t be afraid, Squire, I understand him ; 


76 


BAD TO BEAT. 


he’ll wake up fast enough when I want him 
to and,” he said with a smile ; “ I’m bound to 
do that before you see us again.” 

The competitors quickly clustered together 
under the starter. A couple of minutes, the 
hag falls, and they are away. The pink 
jacket rushes immediately to the front. An 
enterprising youth this, wearing his first silk 
jacket; he has wild theories about “cutting- 
down his field,” of “ strangling them,” which 
are all very well to put into practice when you 
are on very much the best horse in the race. 
But he is not destined to have it all his own 
way upon this occasion. He leads over the 
first fence, but by this time Kathleen is pulling 
so unpleasantly that Mr. Micklam determines 
that it is better to let her take her fling for the 
present than fight against her. He races up to 
the pink jacket, and the pair come away such 
a cracker together that old hands looking on 
from the stand opine it is much too hot to 
last. Sandeman, who is riding with patience 
and judgment, knows very well that the 
leaders cannot go that pace for three miles, 
but like the others lie is afraid to let them get 
too far away, and here it is that the science of 
a practised jockey like Denton comes in. He 
boldly declines to hurry old Truiiipeter in the 
least, and is lying apparently what in racing 


THM RACE. 


77 


parlance is called “ clean out of his ground.” 
His judgment of pace told him that his field 
must come back to him, and he knew then 
that he should have the advantage of a com- 
paratively fresh horse against a lot, who, to 
say the least of it, had taken a good deal out 
of themselves. 

In the stand Trumpeter’s friends were ex- 
tremely disheartened. “ It looks. Master 
Bobby, said the Squire, “ as if your friend 
Denton had merely started to see the race, 
and not to take part in it,” and even Mr. 
Nuthall, unswerving as was his faith in his 
captain, was fairly flabbergasted to see how far 
he was lying behind. But the end of a mile 
saw a considerable change in the aspect of 
affairs. Pink jacket had shot his bolt. In his 
plucky attempt to cut down his field he had 
cut his own throat ; in racing for a mile 
against a mare far his superior in point of 
speed he had done his horse to a turn. Mick- 
1am went on with the lead, but was now able 
to take a pull at Kathleen, and was quite 
aware that was necessary if he meant to be to 
the fore at the winning post. Before the next 
mile was covered Denton, without ever push- 
ing old Trumpeter, was on terms with his 
horses, and able to take stock of his antago- 
nists. Very much to his surprise, Kathleen 


78 


BAD 10 BEAT. 


had as yet shown no signs of temper. The 
Fiddler was going well, and, thanks to Sande- 
man’s steady riding, did not show the effects 
of the pace quite so much as Denton had 
hoped for. Old Trumpeter was going as 
strong beneath him as when he started, and 
Denton decided at once that it was time to 
go up and “ take a feeler.” 

Passing Sandeman, he put his horse along- 
side of Kathleen, and raced with her at the 
next fence. The mare shook her head, and 
Micklam, who a little lost his, upon finding this 
fresh opponent at his girths, allowed himself 
to be bustled at the jump, in spite of the reck- 
less use he had been already compelled to 
make of Kathleen. They came over almost 
abreast, but Denton’s practised eye saw that 
although safe over the mare jumped wildly, 
and “ now or never,” he said to himself, “ is 
the time to settle her,” so, taking advantage 
of the big grass field in which they had landed, 
he came away at score. 

Just before starting somebody had un- 
luckily told Micklam that the rider of 
Trumpeter was a dangerous man, and he fell 
at once into the trap that Denton had 
prepared for him. He thought his opponent 
was now coming right away, and* instead of 
steadying his mare he drove her for the lead. 


THE -RACE. 


79 


Before they had reached the next fence Denton 
took a strong pull at his horse, leaving Mick- 
1am to forge ahead, and what he hoped imme- 
diately happened. Kathleen swung round 
and refused ; in another instant Denton was 
over the fence, and making strong play down 
a furrow of the one ploughed field in the 
course. He felt he had at last slipped his 
field, and, bar accidents, had things all his own 
way ; but, like a prudent general, he threw a 
glance over his shoulder and discovered that 
he had not quite done with Sandeman and his 
grey, still he felt confident that his horse must 
have more left in him than Sandeman’s, and 
that a strong run race home must be all to 
Trumpeter’s advantage, so he sent the old 
horse along gaily. But Sandeman was equally 
aware that he must now keep well up with 
Trumpeter to have the ghost of a chance of 
winning, and he floundered steadily along 
some four or five lengths in his rear. 

The astonishment of the stand at this re- 
markable change of affairs may be easily con- 
ceived. As for the Squire, he could scarcely 
believe that his chocolate jacket, which he 
had looked upon as quite out of it, was now 
leading by four or five lengths. The formid- 
able Kathleen, by the time her rider succeeded 
in getting her over the fence she had refused, 


80 


BAD TO BEAT. 


had lost a good field, and though she made up 
her ground at a most amazing rate, the next 
jump only witnessed a repetition of her bad 
behaviour. As they turned into the straight 
half-mile for home, there was nothing in it but 
Trumpeter and The Fiddler, and it was quite 
evident that The Fiddler was gradually closing 
with him. Denton looked uneasily over his 
shoulder, as they came down to the last 
fence. 

“ He has the heels of me,” he muttered. “ I 
wonder how much powder he has left. Steady, 
old man, we must keep a little in hand to 
finish with.” 

Trumpeter jumped into the run-in about a 
couple of lengths ahead, and steadying his 
horse, Denton looked anxiously round for his 
rival. Gradually the grey crept up to him. 
Foot by foot he had gained his quarters, his 
head was at Trumpeter’s girths, and then with 
an intense sense of relief Denton saw Sande- 
man sit down and begin riding The Fiddler in 
earnest. He had not moved upon his horse 
as yet, and patiently he waited till nearly 
opposite the stand, when the grey had got to 
his horse’s head. Then he too sat down and 
shook up Trumpeter. Thanks to the careful 
nursing he had received at the beginning of 
the race, the old horse had a flash left in him. 


THE RACE. 


81 


and responding to his rider’s call, shot in, a 
gallant winner by half a length. 

Many and hearty were the congratulations 
that were showered upon Kit Cheviott, on 
Trumpeter's victory, but with characteristic 
bluntness the Squire made his way rapidly 
through his friends to thank his winning 
jockey. He had done him injustice, and 
although Denton didn’t know it, the Squire 
was conscious that his remarks during the 
race had been heard in the stand. He led 
his horse in, and as he did so, he said : 

“ I thank you. Captain Denton, for riding 
my horse, and must express my admiration 
for the clever way in which you handled 
him. He owes his victory principally to 
your judgment. I was fool enough during 
the race to think you were throwing it away 
by lying so far out of your ground, which only 
shows how very much less I knew about it 
than you did.” 

“Well, Squire, no horses that .ever were 
foaled could have lived the pace for three 
miles which that young gentleman in pink 
set us to start with. They were bound to 
come back to me, and they did.” 

As for Bobby Nuthall, from taking the 
most lugubrious view of his prospects, he 
was suddenly lifted into the seventh heaven. 


BAD TO BEAT. 


Instead of losing a lot of money, wliicli a 
few minutes ago he had deemed his inevi- 
table destiny, he had won what was for 
him a big stake, and was now loudly 
glorifying his captain’s horsemanship. In 
short. Nuts was simply the life and soul, 
of the (jrand Stand for the remainder of the 
afternoon. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

MOLLY ARRIVES AT ARRAH. 

C OMING along the causeway road leading 
into Arrah, in the dim twilight, might 
be seen a palkee. The bearers are ad- 
vancing at their usual shuffle, and giving 
vent to that ordinary monotonous and exas 
perating chant, with which we may presume 
they lighten their labours. The relief, 
bearing torches, is jogging along ahead, 
and inside that palanquin is stretched Molly 
Lepel. By no means tired of India, which 
is all new to her fresh young mind, and 
which certainly is a wondrous country to 
see, whatever you may deem it to reside in, 
but Molly is very weary of palkee d^k. She 
has had many breaks in her journey up 
country, halting here and there, for a short 
time, with old friends of her father’s. But 
when it comes to the travelling, Molly arrives 
at the conclusion they manage these things 
better at home. Bear in mind, I am speaking 
of the India of a good five-and-twenty years 
ago, when railways were in their infancy, and 


84 


BAD TO BEAT. 


to travel by d&k of some kind was imperative. 
How tired sbe gets of night after night in 
that hot litter ; of those dreary days, passed in 
strangers’ bungalows, with no one to say a 
word to. It spoke well for our prestige, that 
before the mutinies an English lady might 
travel hundreds of miles, solely in charge of 
native bearers, and fear nothing but the un- 
pleasantness of travel. 

Suddenly there flashes upon the road a 
couple of bright lights, they gleam bigger and 
bigger, and all at once a buggy reins up in 
the middle of the road, and a commanding 
voice orders the palanquin to stop. As the 
syce runs to the horse’s head, the man 
rapidly descends, and as Miss Lepel draws 
back the lattice of her palanquin to enquire 
into the cause of this stoppage, she is con- 
fronted by the Judge, who exclaims — 

“ Molly Lepel, I lancy. Get out, my dear. I 
haven’t seen you since you were a child, and 
probably shouldn’t know you now, even if I 
could see you, which I can't in this light. 
But take out your wraps, child, and then jump 
into the buggy along with me. We shall be 
home in twenty minutes, while it will take 
these fellows over an hour to get there.” 

Thus adjured, Molly slipped out of the 
palanquin and with her father’s assistance soon 


MOLLY ARRIVES AT ARRAB. 


86 


climbed into the buggy. Turning it round, 
the Judge dropped the whip lightly on the 
best roadster Fawcett had in his stables. 

It was good going, and it was not long 
before they pulled up in front of that gentle- 
man’s bungalow. Throwing the reins to the 
syce, the Judge helped his daughter out, and 
as he led her into the light, clasped her two 
hands, and after gazing at her long and 
earnestly, exclaimed, “How handsome you’ve 
grown, child ! And, my God ! how like your 
poor mother. Ah ! well, Molly,” he continued 
as he kissed her, “that is no small compliment. 
You needn’t think it’s simply sentiment on my 
part. There are men out here who will tell 
you that your mother was one of the hand- 
somest and most graceful creatures they ever 
saw.” 

Molly, in her turn, looked keenly and 
anxiously at her father. It was only natural 
that she should peer into the face of this 
father whom she could only just remember, 
and her heart swelled, as she marked the 
keen, handsome, resolute features of a man, 
scarce past the prime of life. 

“Yes, papa,” she said softly, “we have 
much lost time to make up. It couldn’t be 
helped, but we have got to learn to know one 
another.” 


86 


BAD TO BEAT. 


“ Yes,” lie replied, as he passed his hand 
caressingly over her hair, “ but I trust, Molly, 
we shall not be long before we do that. And 
now, child, run away and make such arrange- 
ments as you can for dinner ; we know you’ve 
no baggage, and therefore can make allow- 
ances. There will be nobody but our host, 
and you will find the cleverest ayah I have 
been able to pick up waiting for you in your 
room.” 

Molly had no sooner left the room than 
Fawcett made his appearance. “I tell you 
what. Judge,” he said, “ you and Miss Lepel 
must have lots to say to one another, and 
<vhat is more I want to have a talk with Cole. 
There are very bad rumours afloat to-day. Far 
from being stamped out, this confounded 
mutiny is assuming the most serious propor- 
tions. Far from having retaken Delhi, it 
seems they are not even likely to do so for 
some time. I hear that all Oude is in a blaze, 
and that the Sepoys are rising and murdering 
their officers in all directions. I called Cole a 
roaker the other night, but I’m afraid he took 
a truer estimate of the whole business than w'e 
did. Call for everything you want, and my 
people will attend to you.” 

“ Thank you, I shall be anxious to hear 
what Cole thinks of things ; he is a shrewd. 


MOLLY ARRIVES AT ARRAH. 


87 


long-headed fellow, and not likely to over- 
estimate danger.” 

“ No, you can test a man’s nerve pretty well 
when you’ve seen him amongst the big game. 
And I’ve seen him steady enough even when 
things looked awkward, and now for the 
present, good-bye.” 

The hearts of those with wives and 
daughters might well wax faint, as the re- 
ports of the lurid blaze of insurrection that 
had broken forth over the greater part of 
Bengal came to their ears. Arrah promised 
to escape, insomuch as there was no garrison 
to mutiny ; and after they had once risen the 
mutineers usually made their way rapidly to 
Delhi. But still the veriest trifle might cause 
them to diverge from that intention, and then 
the sacking of Arrah, and the murder of every 
European within it, would probably follow as 
a matter of course. But here Molly entered, 
and the Judge made a vigorous effort to throw 
off the fears that oppressed him. 

“ I suppose you had a very tedious journey 
down ? ” 

“ Not so bad altogether, papa.” Your old 
friends were very kind, and I rested for a few 
days at three or four stations. I don’t mean 
to say palkee dak is a pleasant way of travel- 
ling, but I shouldn’t so much have minded if 


88 


BAD TO BEAT. 


people had not rather frightened me about the 
state of the country. It is enough to make 
a girl rather nervous, the finding herself 
entirely in the hands of her bearers ; and then, 
of course, I was told of some of the horrors 
that had taken place up country, and I don’t 
mind confessing that I had my heart in my 
mouth a good deal on the road, and am 
very, very glad to find myself safe with you 
at last.” 

Then Judge Lepel and his daughter fell 
into converse about family matters. There 
were relatives and friends to inquire about, 
for it was near upon ten years since the Judge 
had set foot in England. That is the sad thing 
about these long absences. Your friends and 
relations have so long lost sight of you, that 
dear as you have been to them once, your 
advent fails to rouse much enthusiasm now. 
You seem to have lost all clue to their lives, 
and the splendours of the East interest them 
not at all. I am speaking, remember, of five- 
and-twenty years ago. Now, a young man 
is hardly counted travelled unless he has 
rolled over “ the monarch of the jungle.” 

However, by dint of hard cross questioning, 
the Judge managed to trace the history of 
those he had cared about, when suddenly a 
man’s step was heard in the verandah, and 


MOLLY ARItlVES AT ARBATI. 


89 


Fawcett entered. “ This is our host, Molly,’’ 
exclaimed the Judge, rising, “ and an old 
friend of twenty years’ standing and more.” 

“ Only too pleased to welcome your father’s 
daughter, Miss Lepel,” said Fawcett as he 
shook hands. “ You must overlook the 
shortcomings of a bachelor’s menage, please, 
and understand that I mean making you com- 
fortable as far as my lights go.” 

“ Do you bring any news ? ” enquired the 
Judge. 

“ Well, yes,” replied Fawcett, indifferently 
— “ but I’ll open my budget later on.” 

“ Which means,” said Molly, laughing, 
“ when I have retired ; and that, Mr. Fawcett, 
I will do at once. I’ve had a long and 
wearisome day, and shall be very glad to get 
to sleep.” 

“ Well ?” said the Judge, as his daughter left 
the room. 

“ Cole thinks things can’t look worse ; the 
Sepoys at Dinapore are on the very verge of 
mutiny, and though everybody is urging him 
to disarm them, the general cannot make up 
his mind to do it. As Cole says, vacillation 
in times like these is destruction, prompt 
determination is everything ; the end of it will 
be, those beggars will break away with their 
arms in their hands. I tell you what. Judge, 


90 


BAB TO BEAT. 


I went over Cole’s citadel this evening. Upon 
my word, he’s a wonderful fellow ; he has got 
it victualled, he has got a well almost in the 
house, and he has got lots of ammunition. I 
really think that about fifty resolute men 
could hold out there for a couple of days. 
However, it will be a bad look-out if it comes 
to that.” 

The Judge looked very grave, as he re- 
plied: “We must hope for the best, but it 
was a cruel stroke of bad fortui; ' that led 
me to bring Molly out here at such a time.” 

“ No doubt,” replied the other ; “ but nobody 
could have foreseen — or, at all events, I don’t 
know anybody that did — this frightful out- 
break, some few months ago, which was when 
you decided upon Miss Lepel’s joining you.” 

“ No,” rejoined the Judge, “ I cannot blame 
myself for that. I suppose we ought to have 
read the signs of the times, but we didn’t ; nor, 
as you say, did others in better positions to 
judge of the state of things. And, now I’m 
off to bed. There’s one maxim we had better 
stick to, and that is to sleep while we may. 
If anything like what Cole pictures should 
happen, we are not likely to have much 
opportunity till we are either rescued, or ‘ sleep 
the sleep that knows no waking.’ ” 

The next morning realised Cole’s prediction, 


MOLLY AimiVES AT ABRAB. 


91 


and a company consisting of fifty Sikhs rode in 
to Arrah, but, rather to the astonishment of 
the white men, there was no English officer 
with them. The Subadoor (or native officer) 
commanding them reported himself to 
Fawcett, and brought a note from the com- 
missioner of Patna, to say that these soldiers 
would be under his direction. But before 
many hours were over. Cole burst into the 
bungalow, and exclaimed, “ It’s come at last ! 
Dinapore’s gone ! I daresay, Fawcett, you’ll 
get your official communication a little later 
on — mine goes no further than to say that 
six thousand Sepoys, with their arms in their 
hands, have marched out of Dinapore, and 
are quite as likely to come our way as any- 
where else. All this the consequence, mind 
you, of a man with neither mind nor resolu- 
tion being in command there.” 

“You can thoroughly rely on your infor- 
mation, of course ? ” 

“ Thoroughly,” replied Cole. “ There is 
plenty of time, for some hours must elapse 
before they get here. But I earnestly counsel 
your putting what things you want together, 
and in the course of the day moving into my 
house. I need scarcely say bring all the guns 
and ammunition you have with you.” 

“ May I ask. Cole,” inquired Judge Lepel, 


BAB TO BEAT. 


who had entered the room during the above 
conversation, “ what makes you feel so 
positive that the mutineers will march upon 
Arrah ? ” 

“ Fawcett there, if he will take the trouble 
to think, can answer that question better 
than I can. Kunwar Singh, recollect, is the 
great landed proprietor of this neighbour- 
hood.” 

“By Jove! yes. I never thought of 
that ! ” cried Fawcett. “ He is in debt over 
head and ears, and the government, only this 
year, threatened to foreclose on his estates if 
he didn’t clear off a considerable portion of 
his liabilities. Naturally that fellow wants a 
row. Why, he is in the position of an em- 
barrassed Irish gentleman, and would as 
naturally raise the barony, when he found 
the sheriffs’ officers intended paying him a 
visit.” 

“ That’s just it,” rejoined Cole. “ I get a 
lot of all this sort of information from my 
native superintendents on the works. Kunwar 
Singh, you may depend upon it, has been for 
some time in communication with the dis- 
affected Sepoys at Dinapore. Then he has 
got his own ragamuffins besides, to put him- 
self at the head of. The first desire of the 
revolted Sepoy is license, plunder, and the 


MOLLY AL.IIIVE8 AT ARRAB. 


93 


cutting the throats of the Feringhees, and 
Kunwar Sijigh has doubtless pointed out , 
that Arrah fulfils all those requirements.” 

“ You are quite right, Cole,” rejoined 
Fawcett, “ Kunwar Singh is quite certain to 
have pointed all this out to the Sepoys. 
The overthrow of our rule will of course suit 
him exactly, he wipes off his debt at once.” 

“ Yes,” said the Judge, “ you’ve quite made 
out the case. These are excellent reasons 
why the mutineers should come to Arrah, 
which lies quite at their mercy, and there do 
not appear to be any reasons why they 
should not. We had better pack up our 
things and take refuge in your house, in 
the course of the day ; and now there is one 
thing. Do you think we can trust the 
Sikhs?” 

“ Yes, I believe so,” replied Cole. “ As far 
as I can learn, they have invariably stood 
loyal to us as bodies, that is, I mean, when 
the regiments have been entirely composed 
of their own race.” 

“ There’s one thing further,” said Fawcett, 
dropping his voice. “We’ve very little 
choice about trusting them now. Capital as 
Cole’s defences are, I doubt if a dozen of us 
could hold them.” 

“ Then I shall consider that point settled. 


91 


BAD TO BEAT. 


We all withdraw to my house this afternoon. 
As for the Sikhs, I’ll make every preparation 
for putting them up. I suppose the}^ may 
as well bivouac outside for to-night. If you 
will give them their orders, Fawcett, we can 
withdraw them into the house as soon as it 
becomes necessary.” 

The morning was passed in selecting the 
necessary essentials for what might prove to 
be a somewhat protracted visit. Besides 
their clothes, and every description of fire 
arm on the premises, Fawcett also sent 
down all the tinned meats and other 
comestibles he could lay his hands upon in 
the bungalow, and that afternoon saw the 
whole party established in Cole’s house, 
awaiting what fate might have in store for 
them. 


CHAPTER VIIL 
“eastward ho!” 


LOSE upon three months have elapsed 



since Denton drove Kit Cheviott’s old 


horse home triumphantly for the West Kent 
Hunt Steeplechase, and there has arrived in 
England the rumour of a mutiny of the 
Sepoys in Bengal. Not much is as yet 
thought of this, the Sepoys had mutinied 
before, notably in the case of Vellore, many 
years previously, to say nothing of its having 
been several, times the case that it had been 
found requisite to disarm a regiment or two 
on account of insubordination. There was 
no Suez Canal, bear in mind, in those days, 
nor yet any telegraphic communication in 
India, and therefore information between the 
two countries travelled but slowly. As yet 
to the public this rumour was vague, and 
attracted but little attention ; and if the 
authorities were more disquieted, they, at all 
events, kept their anxieties to themselves. It 
might well be so, when we consider that men 
experienced in the country and on the spot 
saw in the falling barometer but a passing 
squall, and never dreamt of the cyclone so 


7 


BAD TO BEAT, 


close at hand. Even those whose clearer 
vision gave them a foresight into the coming 
troubles, with their deluge of blood, crime, 
anarchy and ruthless oppression, seemed, 
except in the case of the very strong-minded, 
to have had their hands partially tied by the 
utter incredulity of their colleagues. The 
officers of the Company’s service could not be 
induced to believe in the infidelity of their 
own particular corps. “ The Fifth have 
mutinied at Meerut, but we can pin our lives 
on the faith of our fellows,” was the predomi- 
nant feeling through the Bengal Army. The 
colonels and generals of the old Coinpanj^’s 
service, not to mention those holding similar 
rank in the Queen’s Army, who had won 
their laurels at the head of these very Sepoys, 
could not be induced to believe that they 
would as a whole prove false to their salt. 
Here and there, no doubt, a regiment might 
prove disloyal to their colours, but as a body 
no ; they were certain that the Bengal Army 
would never prove faithless to its traditions 
and its officers. 

There was one thing, that few of these 
men took in at the time, and those only men 
of great intelligence and who understood 
the North-West Provinces and the compo- 
sition of that Bengal Sepoy army, namely. 


"EASTWAJtD nor 


97 


the effects of the annexation of Oude. This 
was not only the upsetting of an ancient 
kingdom, but it also assumed, and with con- 
siderable show of reason, to the nobility and 
large landholders of Oude, the probable con- 
fiscation of their estates. If Thomas Atkins 
heard that the Squire of his parish, that all 
his village relations, and friends were boiling 
with indignation and seething with resentment 
against Her Majesty, it would try his loyalty, 
staunch as he has always proved to his 
officers in troubles of this nature, but then 
here the difference of race has to be taken 
into calculation, and the fierce religious differ- 
ence that inwardly, however expediency may 
suggest its glossing over, ever rages between 
the Moslem and the Giaour. 

Denton had followed such meagre news as 
he had been able to collect about this mutiny 
with the greatest possible interest He had 
no more idea of the gigantic proportions it 
was fated to assume, or that it was to be a 
death grapple between ourselves, the muti- 
neers, and the Begum of Oude for the posses- 
sion of India, than it may be presumed the 
military authorities at home as yet dreamt of ; 
but he was a shrewd, cool-headed, observant 
man, had passed a good many years of his life 
in that country ; and as each mail continued 


98 


SAB TO BEAT. 


to bring tidings of the gradual spread of the 
conflagration, and, most striking point of all 
to his mind, the fact that Delhi was as yet 
not re-taken, Denton began to think that the 
war in India might after all assume very im- 
posing proportions. 

“ Well,” he muttered, grimly, “ I suppose 
I never shall see the real thing. If I had 
stuck to the old regiment I must have been 
in it, and, now I’ve got the rank of captain, 
should probably have had the chance of a 
good berth in the staff, or something of that 
sort. It is too absurd,” he continued, laugh- 
ing. “ Here I hunt the grisly phantom of 
war, with its glory, honours, and all the rest 
of it, but with the result of becoming a mem- 
ber of the Peace Society. I suppose I never am 
destined to raise my hand against my fellow.” 

But Denton was destined very shortly to 
be undeceived on that point, and fated to 
have full indulgence of his lust for figliting 
before he died. Quietly as the thing was 
kept, the news from India grew worse by 
every mail, and it was speedily evident to the 
Home Government that if we meant to keep 
India, it was an absolute necessity that we 
should send every soldier we could lay our 
hands upon, and that with the least possible 
delay. It was singular, but only a few 


EASTWARD TIO! 


99 


months before, the Crimean War being safely 
got through with, the reduction (»f the army 
became of course of paramount importance, 
and good and tried soldiers were dismissed 
from the ranks, eilher with their own consent 
or upon small pretext. 

On the strength of his winnings over 
Trumpeter, Mr. Nuthall had indulged in 
various jaunts to town during that spring. 
Mr. hTuthall was very fond of what he termed 
“ a little kick-up ” in the metropolis, and it 
was upon his return from one of these ex- 
cursions that he sought Denton’s quarters. 

“ What, Nuts, back again ? Strikes me, 
young man, you are fooling away a good 
deal of money over these London jaunts.” 

“Well,” laughed Bobby, “1 can’t as far 
as I’m concerned quite say I earned it, but 
never mind, I got it, and it is precious dull 
work down here just now, but I’ve got a bit 
of news for you. I was dining with young 
Lindsay at the ‘Eag’ last night, and wdien 
we got into the smoking-room it was all in a 
ferment. They say there is some te rible 
news come home from India, and that half-a- 
dozen regiments have got orders to hold 
themselves in readiness for immediate em- 
barkation. There was one fellow there, a 
Major Dundas — — ” 


100 


BAD TO BBAT. 


“ I know him, go on,” interrupted Denton. 

“ Who said he had been down to the 
Horse Guards that afternoon, and ‘they’re 
pretty full of work there, I can tell you,’ 
lie continued. ‘ We’re going, I know, and so 
are the — th Hiehlanders, and the — th Fusi- 
leers ; but if half the rumours about this 
afternoon are true, it’s a case of the Crimea 
over again, my boys. Every available soldier 
we have will be doubling the Cape before 
many weeks are past. The Overland route 
won’t be much good when you come to pour 
troops along it.’ ” 

“ Dundas said that. Nuts, did he? He’s a 
rattling fine soldier, and^has distinguished 
himself more than once. He has a keen 
instinct for the brawl of battle, and the 
knack of being in the thick of the fighting 
wherever it may be. I shall run up to town at 
once, if I can catch the chief and get his leave. 
I’ll be oil’ by the night mail for three days. 
You needn’t mention that it was the news you 
have brought down that has taken me there.” 

Mr. Nuthall would have liked to ask further 
questions, but a look had come over Denton’s 
face which he thoroughly understood, and he 
quitted the room, without further remark. 

This anxiety to see active service had be- 
come almost morbid with Denton, and yet it 


‘^BASTWARD HOI” 


101 


is not difficult of comprehension. For an 
officer of his standing to be still undecorated 
now-a-days was marked. Not three years 
previously, and exactly the converse of this 
state of things existed. The regimental 
officers vpho wore medals were compai’atively 
few, and such distinctions had been chiefly 
attained in India. Denton readily obtained 
the leave he asked for, and lost no time in 
making his way to London. 

In the course of the next day or two, he 
was perfectly reassured, and found that 
Dundas had taken a very accurate estimate of 
the case. Not only were the half-dozen regi- 
ments first rumoured now” authoritatively 
pronounced to be under orders in all the 
papers, but it was further stated that the 
government were taking up transport in all 
directions. Denton speedily ascertained that 
if more regiments had not as yet received 
their orders, it was simply because they had 
not so far sufficient ships in wffiich to embark 
them, but that there was a long list of horse, 
foot and artillery, all down for the East, as 
soon as transports could be provided for them, 
and that his owm corps figured very close to 
the top of it. Denton returned to 
Winchester, perfectly satisfied at the pros- 
pect before him, Just before leaving town, 


102 


BAD TO BEAT. 


he ran across Dun, who was an old friend, 
on the steps of the “ Eag.” 

“ Things are as bad out there as they can 
be,” he remarked, “ they’ve only just woke up 
to it here, but we’ve been trying to put out a 
conflagration with a garden syringe. I heard 
from a man in Bengal last mail, whom I can 
thoroughly rely on, and that is what he 
describes it. He goes on to say that the fire 
is spreading, and that it will be all they can 
do to hold on till they get the necessary re- 
inforcements. No, Denton, you may depend 
upon it, it is no child’s play we’re going out 
about, and don’t you be the least afraid that 
you’ll be out of it this time. There’s no 
chance whatever of the insurrection being 
put down before you get there. There’s a 
long and severe campaign before us, and many 
a weary siege, and many a bitter battle to be 
fought, before we see England again. Some of 
us will never run up the steps here an}^ more. 
However, we will trust that you and I may be 
amongst the fortunate ones, and finish a bottle 
of champagne together as colonels. Good-bye, 
we shall meet again up in the North-West 
Provinces somewhere, there is no doubt.” 

Eastward ho ! Once more the legions of 
England are steaming to the East with all the 
speed they can muster, but it is not through 


“EASTWARD IIO t 


103 


the Gulf of Gibraltar and up the Mediter-' 
ranean this time ; it is a far longer journey 
across the Atlantic, around “ the Gallas,” off 
which stormy point the inevitable heavy gale 
has to be encountered. Across the Indian 
Ocean and up the muddy Hooghly, to the 
City of Palaces, steadfastly transport after 
transport ploughs its way across the ocean, 
at the best pace it can travel ; there is money 
being lavished for speed, and penalties for the 
want of it ; for every day, under a certain 
fixed number, the owners of those ships can 
claim extra payment ; for every day over 
they are liable to a fine by their contract. 
Like their progenitors the Norsemen, 
England’s soldiers are dependent in gr at 
measure on their ships. Galle the destina- 
tion of all of them in the first instance, there 
to receive their orders from Calcutta. There 
was much mystery concerning the extent of the 
mutiny when the — th left England, and there 
were many who thought that the whole affair 
would be stamped out long before they 
reached India, but Denton, judging from what 
Dundas had told him, and also from his 
previous knowledge of India, had little doubt 
but what it was a very serious outbreak 
indeed. Still, from the time they had left 
Portsmouth, they had seen or heard m^ta- 


104 


BAB TO BEAT. 


phorically nothing of what was going on in 
the world. They had touched nowhere, ex- 
cept for coal at Teneriffe, and in sleepy, hum- 
drum Vera Cruz they were not likely to hear 
any news. But when they dropped anchor 
just outside the harbour of Galle, the dull 
monotony of their voyage was speedily dissi- 
pated. There they got bundles of the English 
newspapers which had come out overland, 
and which contained vivid accounts of how 
station after station had blazed forth in re- 
bellion, winding up with an account of all the 
horrors and hideous massacres of Cawnpore. 

Have you ever seen man transformed by 
passion into the semblance of a wild beast ? 
when his eyes glitter with vengeance, and 
when the object of his resentment might as 
well hope for mercy from a wounded tiger as 
from him. Look at that group of soldiers on 
the deck of the “ Caledonia ” ? Watch their 
faces, as one of their number reads out the 
tale of the dishonour and butchery of the 
ladies and children, who were gathered to- 
gether within Wheeler’s entrenchments. 
Watch their faces as he reads out to them 
the story of the shameful treachery of the 
Rajah of Bithoor. There is a wolfish look 
comes into iheir eyes, and the savage maledic- 
tions that are growled out from under their 


‘ EASTWARD HOT 


105 


moustaches give promise of little quarter for 
the mutineers, when their hour of expiation 
shall come. I doubt on the quarter-deck 
whether things are much better. Amongst 
the officers there is a feverish anxiety to use 
those swords and revolvers hanging in the 
cabins or strewn about the deck. When the 
day of reckoning shall come, the men will be 
hard to hold, I trow, and the officers have 
small stomach for restraining them. 

Suddenly an anxious thought shot across 
Denton’s mind. It was evident, by the papers, 
that pretty well all Bengal was gone, and that 
the authorities were very uneasy about Bom- 
bay ; in fact those in high places in India 
might well be uneasy. They knew not whom 
they could trust. There was no doubt that 
some few of the Bombay regiments were 
tainted with treason, and Denton knew that 
some small portion of the outcoming troops 
would be probably sent to that Presidency to 
check any wavering on the part of the Sepoys 
there. However, a few hours did away with 
any fear of that sort ; a catamaran came out 
to them with orders to come into the harbour 
as soon as “ The Golden Fleece ” had cleared 
out, there to coal, and then to proceed on 
to Calcutta with all possible despatch. At 
noon next day “ The Golden Fleece ” steamed 


106 


BAD TO BEAT. 


by them, on her way to the Sand Heads, and 
a ringing cheer burst from the throats of the 
47th and the two companies of the Black 
Watch which were aboard of her, and then the 
“ Caledonia ” crept quietly to her moorings in 
Galle harbour. The “ Caledonia ” contained 
but three companies of the — th, under the 
command of one of the majors. Kegiments 
were sent out in detachments at that time 
very extensively. Government had to take 
up ships of all descriptions, big and little ; any- 
thing that could make good time roiind the 
Cape, they were only too glad to lay their 
hands on. But time was everything, and to 
put every available soldier there was in 
India as qniclvly as might be was — I won’t say 
our only, but certainly our best, chance of re- 
taining the country. Denton went ashore at 
Galle for a few hours, and heard quite enough 
there to convince him, that, far from the 
rebellion being in the least stamped out, the 
campaign for its repression had barely begun. 
The process of coaling was soon concluded, 
and the next day saw the “ Caledonia ” 
battling with the stormy waters of the Bay of 
Bengal. Scant time was vouchsafed the 
officers of Her Majesty’s — th to study the 
glories of the City of Palaces, their orders 
being to proceed to Dinapore without delay. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE SIEGE BEGINS. 

T he twenty-sixth of July saw the handful 
of Europeans at Arrah gathered together 
in the house that Mr. Cole had so assiduously 
fortified. A queer dinner to have assisted at 
was the one their host gave them that evening. 
I do not mean that there was any peculiarity 
about it as far as the dinner went, beyond 
that it was somewhat in the rough, as might 
be expected under the circumstances, but 
they were people wondering as to what might 
happen before they gathered round that board 
again. They were men with ears on the 
strain for the first discharge of firearms, for 
the fierce yell of an unlicensed soldiery drunk 
with ideas of rapine and bloodshed. Mrs. Cole 
and Molly were women only too terribly 
aware of the awful danger of their position. 
Poor Mrs. Cole did her very best, and tried 
bravely to conceal the terror which filled her 
heart, but she was of a timorous disposition, 
and could not hide that her nerves were 
shaken past control. Molly was made of 


108 


BAD TO BEAT. 


different stuff; her eye flashed defiance, and 
she blenched not an iota at the thought of the 
siege they were probably about to sustain. 
But when she and Mrs. Cole rose to leave the 
gentlemen to their tobacco she went round to 
her father and whispered to him : 

“ Come into the verandah for a moment, 
papa. I want to speak to 5’ou.” 

“ Excuse me one moment. Cole,” said the 
Judge, as he rose and followed his daughter. 

What is it, my dear ? ” he continued, as they 
stood looking out into the bright moonlight. 

“ I want you to make me one promise, 
papa. It is the first request I have ever 
made you, and you may hesitate to grant it, 
but you will make me very miserable if you 
refuse. I can promise on my side to be plucky 
to the last, and helpful as a woman may be 
in the work that lies before us. Put my mind 
at rest on this one point, and you shall see 
your daughter is no craven.” 

“ What is it you want, child ? Speak out.” 

“ Father, I have heard on my way up the 
country of the shameful treatment English 
ladies have been subjected to who have fallen 
into the hands of these slaves who have risen 
against us,” and no words can describe the 
contemptuous tones with which Molly uttered 
these words. “ Promise me this, that when in 


tnE siege begins. 


109 


your judgment all is lost, and tlieir victory 
inevitable, you leave no chance of my falling 
alive into their hands. You will know what 
I mean, father ; if it comes to the worst, empty 
one barrel of your revolver into my breast 
before you dree yoiir own doom.” 

“ I understand, Molly, and I promise,” re- 
joined the Judge. “ You may trust unflinch- 
ingly to me for that. I would sooner kill you 
with my own hand than leave you to the 
mercy of a pack of Sepoys false to their salt. 
And now, good-night, my dear. We must all 
get what sleep we can to-night, perhaps 
it may be the last quiet one we shall pass for 
some days.” 

When Judge Lepel returned to the dining- 
room, he found that the dangers of their posi- 
tion had made no very great difference in the 
spirits of the guests. If there had been some 
tension during dinner, under the influence of 
tobacco and a modest amount of brandy 
pawnee, the men had recovered their accus- 
tomed equilibrium. There was of course much 
discussion about their present situation. Cole 
told them frankly that the arrival of the 
mutineers at Arrah was a mere matter of time. 

“Some of my people,” he said, “ whom I sent 
scouting to-day, have brought in two reports, 
which I consider make that a foregone con- 


110 


Bad to beat. 


elusion. The six thousand Sepoys who have 
broken loose from Dinapore have crossed the 
Son, and old Kunwar Singh has raised all 
his tenantry, and thrown in his lot with 
them.” 

“Dear old gentleman,” laughed FaAveett, 
“ He thinks to save the foreclosure of those 
mortgages yet, but I think he is more likely 
to make an end of his venerable life, through 
the trouble that will eventually acrue to 
him.” 

“ Ah ! he must be a very old man, by the 
way,” remarked the Judge, “ too old, I should 
have thought, to mix himself up in an 
irnbrogho like this.” 

“ Age doesn’t tame the tiger. Judge,” re- 
joined Fawcett sententiously, “ nor does age 
dissipate the Asiatic’s passion for intrigue 
— depend upon it, there’s not a rajah or ruler 
of a native state in all India who is not 
balancing in his own mind whether he had 
best be for us or against us in this crisis.” 

“Yes,” chimed in Cole, “and it will be, 
matter of the greatest importance to us to 
stem the tide as soon as possible. Even 
native states, who bear us goodwill, can be 
but trimmers at such a moment as this. It’s no 
use talking about it, for a man’s own interest 
usually sways his actions in this world. And 


TIIE SIEGE BEGINS. Ill 

all these petty rajahs and maharajahs would 
fain be on the winning side.” 

“ Troops ! Troops ! English soldiers are 
what we want,” exclaimed Judge Lepel, 
“ and the recovery of the revolted districts is 
simply a question of how quickly we may 
expect reinforcements from home.” 

Even as he spoke there were traitorous 
hearts in Calcutta that already viewed with 
dismay the river of steel that was flowing 
through the City of Palaces. Agents of the 
leaders of the insurrection watched with the 
gravest misgivings the British bayonets that 
landed every two or three days, and imme- 
diately hurried up country. They began to 
recognise that they were measuring their 
strength against a gigantic power — a power 
apparently that could pour endless English 
soldiers into the country, and the prestige 
of the Feringhees in the battle-field was still 
high as ever. For near on a century no race 
on the whole Peninsula could boast of more 
than a temporary triumph over the white man, 
and against what odds he had fought and con- 
quered was firmly graven on their memories. 

A cheroot or two finished, and the party 
. generally withdrew to their respective sleeping 
places, and finally Judge Lepel and Fawcett 
found themselves the only men left in what 


8 


112 


BAD TO BEAT. 


was destined to be tlie sole living room of the 
little party for some time. The Judge was a 
man who habitually kept rather late hours 
for India. He was a man who could do with 
but very little sleep, and indeed seemed in- 
capable of getting through more than four 
or five hours of it at a time. 

“ Have another manilla, Fawcett,” he ex- 
claimed, “ it’s no use going to bed as far as 
I’m concerned, just yet. I should only toss 
about, and make myself hot and uncomfort- 
able.” 

“ Well, I don’t mind if I do,” replied the 
Collector, “ but I feel as if I should sleep 
without rocking when I do get to bed. We 
shall be in a tight place before many hours 
are over our heads ; but that old gentleman 
at Dinapore, whose want of decision has got 
us into this scrape, is surely bound to come to 
our rescue if we can hold out for two or three 
days.” 

“We must trust so,” replied the Judge. 
“ If they’ve not already relieved him from 
his command, they most decidedly ought to 
have done, at a crisis like this ; incompetent 
men ought to be superseded at once.” 

“ Yes ; leaders must have both energy and 
daring in an affair of this kind. I recollect 
when I was off the coast of Madagascar ” 


TBB SIEGE BEGINS. 


113 


“ Why, good heavens ! where was that ? 
How did you get there? What were you 
doing there ? ” 

“Well, you see. Judge,” continued the 
narrator. (There was a slight twinkle in his 
eye, which, to those who knew him well, 
was indicative of a lapse into his besetting 
weakness.) “ I was on furlough, and I thought 
a sea-voyage would pick me up better than 
a turn at the Hills. Well, I had a chum who 
commanded one of those brigs employed in 
the suppression of the slave trade. I pan’t 
say it was a lively amusement, and, as far as 
sport goes, we seemed dead out of luck ; it 
wasn’t that we couldn’t find plenty of male- 
factors, but the thing was, we never could 
catch them. As far as chasing dhows wfent, 
we had quite a gay time, but when it came 
to catching them, it was quite another thing. 
Our old tub of a boat wasn’t in it ; they all 
sailed about three feet to our two. As for 
my pal, he got as mad as a hatter, and vowed 
the authorities ought to be ashamed of 
themselves for asking anybody to command 
such a precious old washing-tub as had 
fallen to his lot. She was a comfortable 
craft, you know, but nobody could call her 
fast.” 

“ Well,” said the Judge, “still I don’t see 


114 


SAD TO SEAT. 


that there was much danger in all this ; if 
you couldn’t catch these slavers, you certainly 
had no chance of fighting them.” 

“ Just wait a bit,” rejoined Fawcett, “ and 
you will see. One morning we sighted a 
very large dhow, and at once proceeded to 
give chase. To my chum’s astonishment and 
gratification, we had at last come across a 
craft that went slower than ourselves. We 
gained slowly but surely, and after a chase 
of some hours, were near enough to send a 
shot across his forefoot. He complied with 
the hint, and lay to. We ran down pretty 
close to him : and then a boat was lowered 
with orders to go aboard, and, if he was fitted 
as a slaver, to take possession. Well, I 
wanted to have a look at a regular slaver, so 
I got permission to go on board, too. We 
were very soon alongside, and a more 
villainous skipper than the Arab in com- 
mand I think I never set eyes on. The crew, 
too, were such a set of unmitigated-looking 
scoundrels, that if they had come before 
you. Judge, you would have hung ’em at 
sight.” 

“ Still, I don’t see where the danger comes 
in.” 

“ Wait a bit. Judge, wait a bit,” replied 
the Collector, somewhat drowsily. “ They 


THE SIEGE BEGINS. 


115 


received us sullenly, and I could see had 
more than half a mind to attempt putting 
us overboard, but they were under the guns 
of the brig, and were afraid to try that 
experiment. No doubt about what they 
were ; one peep down the hatchway, and 
if your eyes hadn’t told you the truth, your 
nose would. She was full of slaves, packed 
something like figs in a drum. He was a 
smartish young lieutenant who wa§ in charge 
of the boat, and saw at once that the crew 
of the slaver considerably outnumbered his 
own men ; he was determined not to 
throw away a chance, and immediately 
ordered the villainous-looking captain and 
his truculent-looking crew below. Well, by 
this time, it was getting dark, and So the 
officer in charge elected to remain on board. 
We slept that night, I need hardly tell you, 
with one eye open.” 

And here the narrator came to a pause in 
his story. 

“Well?” exclaimed the Judge, impatiently, 
for he had got really interested in the story.” 

“ With the first dawn of day we were in our 
saddles,” resumed Fawcett. 

“ In our saddles ? ” rejoined the Judge in 
blank astonishment. “ Why you were chasing 
dhows off the coast of Madagascar ! ” 


116 


BAD TO BEAT. 


“ What nonsense you’re talking, Judge ! 
Why I was telling you a story about cattle 
driving in South America. You must have 
been asleep.” 

“ One of us must,” replied the Judge, 
laughing, “ but I own I should have liked 
to hear the end of the capture of that dhow 
off the coast of Madagascar.” 

“ Ah ! I’ll tell you that story another 
time,” rejoined Fawcett, as he threw away 
his extinct cigar. “ It really is time now to 
think of going to sleep.” 

Early the next morning, the sound of tom- 
toms, the yells of the excited population, and 
the firing of innumerable muskets, gave notice 
of the entrance of the mutineers into Arrah. 

Scouts were sent out, the Sikhs quietly with- 
drawn within the house, the doors barricaded, 
and every preparation that suggested itself 
made for facing the coming trouble. The 
scouts speedily returned with the intelligence 
that the customary programme of the muti- 
neers was being carried out to the letter ; 
the stores, the treasury, and all the principal 
bungalows had been looted and fired, the 
gates of the jail had been cast open, loosing 
upon the country some five hundred male- 
factors, but as yet the mutineers, drunk 
with plundering and arson, had thought but 


THE SIEGE BEGINS. 


117 


little of what had become of the Europeans 
connected with the station. 

During that day it did not occur to them, 
but on the following morning, it flashed across 
the minds of the leaders that there was some 
small work of throat-cutting, and the annihila- 
tion of the hated Feringhee, to be got through 
before quitting the place. Where were these 
Englishmen ? Where did they hide them- 
selves ? And the mutineers gave the inhabit- 
ants of Arrah to understand that skinning alive 
or its equivalent would be the lot of any native 
who dared to protect an Englishman from his 
just doom. 

There was so little disguise about where the 
Englishmen were that the Sepoys had not to 
enquire twice on the subject. 

Men who have burst the shackles of dis- 
cipline, who are drunk with plunder, and 
thirsting for murder, are usually furious in their 
onset, but if they come on with all the tumult 
of war in their bearing, it is wonderful how 
they collapse at the first check. 

Ostentatious was the swagger with which 
some five or six hundred of those Sepoys 
marched down, to use a homely phrase, to 
settle accounts with the Europeans of Arrah ; 
boldly and loftily they summoned the little 
house to surrender, but the grim reply of a 


118 


SAD TO BEAT. 


volley, that stretched near a score of them on 
the ground, produced a remarkable change 
in their intentions. These Europeans might 
not be numerous, but it dawned upon the 
Sepoy mind that these Feringhees meant 
fighting in bitter earnest, and there were 
plenty of them knew how the Englishman could 
fight when put to it. They withdrew rapidly to 
confer with their comrades, about this pheno- 
menal fact, that a dozen Englishmen were 
voluntarily courting death, while refusing to 
surrender to a force of some six thousand men. 
The obstinacy of these English was inscrutable, 
they were pigs, but they were pigs undoubtedly 
who showed very awkward tusks to those bent 
on their destruction. 

So far the mutineers had not mastered the 
fact, that this handful of Englishmen had fifty 
staunch reliable Sikhs behind them ; and when 
the wassail ran high amongst their leaders 
that evening in Fawcett’s bungalow, wdiere in 
defiance of the doctrines of Mahomet, they 
quaffed the Collector’s choicest wines, they 
laughed in their beards, and vowed that to- 
morrow should see that house levelled to the 
ground and not a Feringhee left alive in 
Arrah. Threatened men live long, and the 
fall of ’ many a besieged place has much 
upset the calculations of the experts. 


CHAPTEK X. 

HIS BAPTISM OP FIRE. 

H EE Majesty’s — th reached Dinapore the 
day after the mutineers had been per- 
mitted to march out of it, their muskets on 
their shoulders, and their pouches full of ball 
cartridge. The station was in great commo- 
tion, and Denton and his companions heard 
bitter comment on the supinness and vacillation 
of the general in command, who, it was argued, 
ought to have disarmed them a week ago. 
Now the great interest centred upon where 
the mutineers would make for. ITelhi was the 
goal for which the Sepoys made as a rule, 
having generally burnt the station at which 
they had risen, if there had not been Euro- 
pean troops enough, as was the case at Dina- 
pore, to render such a proceeding hazardous. 
They had not to wait long for news of them ; 
it was speedily known that want of boats had 
prevented their crossing the Ganges, and they 
had consequently marched upon Arrah. 

Some eflbrt, it was determined, must be 
made to save the handful of English resident 
at that place, and a force was quickly orga- 


120 


BAB TO BEAT. 


nised, consisting of some three hundred and 
fifty European soldiers, some Sikhs, and a few 
volunteers, in all about four hundred men, 
and of these, one hundred were men of the 
— th, under Denton, the whole being under 
the command of a Captain Dunbar. A dimi- 
nutive column indeed, with which to disperse 
a force that numbered more thousands than 
they did hundreds, but Englishmen since the 
days of Plassy have recked little of numbers, 
when it came to dealing with the Asiatic. 

As, to save Arrah, time was a matter of great 
consideration, it was resolved to utilise a 
steamer which was lying in the Son, and to 
transport the column a considerable w^ay up 
the river, and then to disembark them within 
an easy day’s march of the station they came 
to save- Before they started it was known that 
the mutineers had reached Arrah and looted 
the cantonment, but that the English had 
taken refuge in one of the houses, and had so 
far defended themselves successfully. The 
trip by the river was accomplished without 
any incident, and then the disembarkation of 
the little column was effected, without diffi- 
culty, at the point nearest to the station. 
The order was at once issued for the men to 
dine, when suddenly firing was heard from 
the advance guard, and it was quickly ascer- 


MIS BAPTISM OF FIRM 


121 


tained they had come across a small body of 
Sepoys on the banks of a wide and deep 
rivulet, about two miles distant. The Sepoys, 
however, speedily retreated and the whole 
force pushed on to the rivulet in question. 
There, the officers and men were cheered by 
the news brought by the villagers, that the 
garrison were still holding out, whilst the 
booming of the guns in the direction of Arrah 
showed that their countrymen were hard 
pressed, and that the Sepoys had somehow 
obtained possession of field pieces. They had 
still fifteen miles before them, through a ivell- 
wooded country, and along a road heavy from 
the recent rains. There was some slight 
discussion as to whether they should bivouac 
where they were for the night ; but it was ulti- 
mately determined to push on, Captain Dunbar 
rightly deciding that the relief of Arrah was a 
thing that admitted of no delay. Boats were 
procured, the rivulet crossed, and they pro- 
ceeded to advance, led by a native guide. 

They marched about elev.en miles, without 
seeing any traces of the enemy, but at the 
end of that time a small body of cavalry 
appeared in their front ; who, however, 
galloped off before a shot was fired at them. 
It was now about eleven o’clock, and the 
moon went down, still, hopeful and confident, 


122 


BAD TO BEAT. 


the column pressed on till within a mile of 
Arrah. There Captain Dunbar called in his 
skirmishers, and moved on in column of march. 

“ Strikes me this isn’t whist, Nuts, ” re- 
marked Denton to his subaltern, “ in a wooded 
country like this, with such slippery devils as 
we are called on to deal with. I think I should 
have felt the way right in to the station.” 

They were marching along the length of a 
dense mango grove, on the right of the road, 
when suddenly the grove was lit by a blaze 
of fire, and a tremendous volley was poured 
into the long flank of the column, while 
almost simultaneously, a smaller body from a 
group of trees in front swept away the 
leading files. Captain Dunbar and several 
officers fell at the first discharge never to rise 
again, and now, from both flanks as well as 
from the front, was poured in a deadly fire 
from an invisible enemy. The white uniforms 
of the Europeans made them mere targets for 
the foe. Surprised, their leaders slain, their 
formation all lost, no wonder the men threw 
themselves into small groups and began to 
fire wildly in all directions. Denton grasped 
the extent of the disaster at once, but he was 
some distance from the head of the column, 
and it was some few minutes before he 
became aware that Dunbar’s death had placed 


ms BAPTISM OP FIRE. 


123 


him in command of the force. He was prompt 
and decided enough the minute he found that 
the responsibility had devolved upon himself. 
Casting a quick glance over ihe ground for a 
position which would afford some slight cover 
under which to rally his men, his eye fell 
upon a disused tank, and gathering together 
as many of his own regiment as he could, and 
especially his bugler, he made his way rapidly 
to it, and there told the lad to sound the 
assembly. It had the desired effect. In 
their confusion the men were only too glad 
to be told what to do, and rallied to the call 
with great celerity. 

Having ranged his men in the hollows it 
contained, he determined to stand on the 
defensive till daybreak, and then commenced 
to ascertain as far as possible the casualties 
sustained in this disastrous attack. He was 
afraid they were heavy, but when it came to 
counting those who had rallied to the bugle, 
as compared with those who had disembarked 
from the steamer that afternoon, he was aghast 
at the diminution of their numbers. He was 
not a man given to call others to his counsels, 
and as he paced up and down the tank that 
night, he balanced in his own mind whether 
it was possible to continue his advance to 
Arrah in the morning. He was not a man to 


124 


SAD TO BEAT. 


slirink from the most daring movement if he 
thought it possible to attain the desired end 
thereby, but he was far too good a soldier 
to throw away the lives of his men recklessly. 
He understood, no one better, that he was 
in so critical a position that it was to be 
questioned whether it was more dangerous 
to advance than to retire. He knew that the 
enemy were scarce likely to let them regain 
the banks of the Son without bitter fighting. 
They were flushed with success, his men were 
dispirited by defeat. Even if he reached 
Arrah, it would be almost impossible to bring 
off* the garrison there, and regain the steamer. 
A few hours’ delay would be fatal. “ No,” he 
decided at last, “ there is nothing left for it, as 
far as we are concerned, but to leave Arrah 
to its fate, and if I can only withdraw my 
own people out of this accursed wasps’ nest, 
without much further loss, I shall have done 
pi’ctty well.” 

At daybreak the word was passed to fall in, 
.and Denton led his men back to the Arrah road, 
but as they regained it, striking it towards 
the end of the fatal mango grove, used the 
previous night by the enemy for their ambus- 
cade, it was evident that some few of them 
still lingered there. Some dozen muskets 
flashed an angry greeting to them, and Denton 


ms, BAPTISM OF FIRE. 


126 


and two or three of his followers fell lifeless 
by the side of the road. A few skirmishers 
thrown into the grove, speedily ascertained 
that the rebels were in no force there. That 
the attack had been probably delivered by a 
small party, left for the purpose of watching 
their movements. The officer who succeeded 
to the command had quite concurred with 
Denton as to the necessity for retreat, and 
further that that retreat should be accom- 
plished with as little delay as possible. It 
was just one of those occasions which a daring 
man, gifted with inspiration, might have 
turned to account ; one of those occasions on 
which the acute strategist, like the scientific 
chess player, divines the move of his anta- 
gonist. Whether it might have occurred to 
Denton there is no saying ; lying senseless as 
he does, with his face bathed in blood, and 
Bobby Nuthall bending despairingly over him, 
he is little likely to offer conjecture concerning 
the tactics of the enemy. There is no time 
for the surgeon’s services, and drawing, with 
the assistance of one or two of his men, what he 
believes to be the corpse of his captain under 
cover of the edge of the mango grove, Bobby 
Nuthall sadly resumes his place in the column. 

The Sepoys had been quite as alive to the 
success of their ambuscade as the British. 


126 


BAD TO BBAT. 


They had carefully reckoned up what would 
be the probable move of the latter upon the 
dawn, and had rapidly arrived at the conclu- 
sion that abandoning all hope of raising the 
siege of Arrah, they would retire upon the S6n. 
This they ‘determined to prevent at any 
price. They vowed amongst themselves that 
no man of that force should ever see Dinapore 
again, and how strenuously they endeavoured 
to keep their word this history will show. 
Leaving a few hundreds of their force to 
watch that recalcitrant house at Arrah, where 
the inmates, strange to say, imbued with the 
same spirit that had distinguished the famous 
Mrs. Bond’s ducks, declined to come out and 
be killed, they pushed forward all through the 
night, occupying every tope, ditch, and jungle 
that the retiring British would have to pass 
on their way, and it was more than likely that 
it would have been an easier task for the little 
column to fight their way into Arrah than to 
cut their way back to the Son. The column 
marched straight on, returning in somewhat 
hap-hazard fashion the fire that was showered 
on them on their way. They had but one 
object in view — the reaching of the S6n. The 
sheer satisfaction of fighting was denied them. 
The enemy was practically invisible, sheltered 
behind trees, copses, and bushes. The muti- 


BIS BAPTISM OF FIRF. 127 

neers kept up a perpetual galling and harassing 
fire. Again and again the rear guard, 
maddened by the sight of their falling com- 
rades, would face about with furious desire to 
charge the enemy, but there was no enemy to 
charge. If they dashed into the jungle it was 
only to catch sight of the rapidly retreating 
forms of the Sepoys. No ; five or six thousand 
men, consisting of rebels and the levies of 
Kunwar Singh, taking advantage of the natural 
obstacles of the country, were shooting our 
luckless countrymen down as you might do 
rabbits in a warren, or as you do pheasants in 
a battue. 

Slowly and with severe loss, the shattered 
column at length" gained the rivulet which 
had been passed upon the preceding evening. 
It was by no means a . broad stream, but still 
it was deep and did necessitate boats for its 
passage. Since the previous night the waters 
had fallen considerably. Many of the boats 
used on the preceding afternoon were now 
stranded and useless, and there were ap- 
parently only two available for the passage. 
If it be argued that the other boats might have 
been brought down to the water it must also 
be considered that from a demoralised force, 
hotly pressed by a triumphant enemy, cool- 
ness under difficulties is hardly to be expected. 


9 


128 


BAD TO BEAT. 


The mutineers, for the first time, now began 
to show themselves. They knew that once 
across the rivulet the fugitives would virtually 
have escaped them. A couple more miles and 
they would have gained the Son, and be under 
the protection of the guns of the steamer. 

Hotly pressed by the swarms of Sepoys, 
now thirsting for their blood, the crossing of 
that rivulet became a minatiire passage of the 
Borodino. The men were all out of hand. 
Panic and confusion reigned supreme. Their 
few officers tried vainly to rally them, and 
probably half the entire loss of the whole 
column took place in the crossing of that 
little stream. Many were shot and many 
were drowned, until at last the survivors 
found themselves in comparative safety on 
the opposite bank. When they mustered 
there it was found that out of the original 
column there remained only fifty men and 
three officers unhurt, and of these latter Bobby 
Nuthall was fortunate enough to be one. 
Sadly and disconsolately they made their way 
to the steamer, and were then carried back to 
Dinapore. 

Left for dead, Denton remained for some 
time insensible. How long he liad lain there 
he did not know, but the sun had well risen, 
when he sat up and looked about him. Had 


ms BAPTISM OF FIRS. 


UP 


the bullet that stretched him low been a 
bare quarter of an inch lower in its flight, 
he would never have looked aboixt him again 
in this world. As it was, beyond an earth- 
quaky sort of sensation, he felt that he was 
unhurt. The ball had grazed his head, and 
he had lost a considerable quantity of blood ; 
but otherwise he was little the worse for his 
misadventure Still, his situation was critical 
enough, and for the present his thoughts 
were so confused, he hardly felt capable of 
deciding on what it was best for him to do. 
As far as he could make out, there was no 
living creature within sight. On the other 
side of the road he could see the motionless 
forms of several of his own party ; he 
raised himself to his feet, and looked both up 
and down the road. He could see more than 
one white heap of clothes, marking the 
route back to the S6n. 

Slowly, he recognised that the mutineers 
had, in all probability, followed the shattered 
remains of the column in its retreat, and 
that all possibility of his rejoining his com- 
rades was thereby prevented. He could not 
stay where he was ; not only would his dis- 
covery be a mere question of hours, but ,his 
discovery meant his death ; and he was no 
more disposed to part with his life in cold 


130 


BAD TO BEAT 


blood, than are mankind generally, when it 
comes to the point. He had no alternative ; 
the sole chance left him, was to join the 
garrison of Arrah ; it was an attempt probably 
fraught with difficulty and danger ; he would, 
most likely, perish in the attempt, but it 
was the sole thing that remained for him to 
do ; and as his senses became clearer, it 
struck him that, if not all, the greater part 
of the mutineers were hanging on the tracks 
of the beaten column, and that, in all likeli- 
hood, there was only a small portion of them 
keeping watch upon the Arrah garrison. 

It may be remembered that the mango 
grove was about a mile only Irom the station, 
and therefore it would take very little time 
to try the experiment. He pushed forward 
as cautiously as he could, and speedily found 
himself amongst some ruined and deserted 
bungalows, which he rightly guessed was the 
small white cantonment of the station. 

The native town was a full half-mile further 
on, but the sharp crack of rifles only some 
few hundred yards away from him, told him 
that he must have reached the vicinity of the 
building, in which the Europeans of Arrah 
were still defending themselves. Creeping 
cautiously along behind walls and hedges, he, 
at last, got to a.place from whence he could ob- 


ms BAPTISM OP FIRE. 


131 


tain an excellent view of the situation. There, 
curiously enough, stood the beleaguered house, 
and not two hundred yards from it was the 
bigger house which formed the stronghold of 
the mutineers. A curious sight ; it was a 
duel between two miniature fortresses, and, 
just at present, somewhat slackly conducted; 
the truth being, that the small number of 
Sepoys left awaited the return of their com- 
rades, before pressing the attack, whilst the 
Englishmen knew better than to waste their 
ammunition. It soon became quite clear to 
Denton what his line must be. After care- 
fully reconnoitring, he must steal up as near 
as possible to the besieged house, and then 
make one dash for it across the open. 

He quickly made his way to the point 
nearest the entrance of the defendants’ fortress 
that he could reach without exposing himself, 
and saw that he should then .have some hun- 
dred and fifty yards to cross, as he best could. 
He had not much fear of the Sepoys hitting 
him, as he ran across that ; his one danger 
would be if there was much delay in admitting 
him, and from this he was fortunately saved 
by an accident. Miss Lepel, peeping cau- 
tiously from an upper window, chanced to 
see Denton break cover. She recognised at 
' once that it was a European, and, as she 


132 


BAD TO BEAT. 


rightly conjectured, a fugitive from last 
night’s disaster, for the gradual dying away 
of the firing had told the garrison at Arrah 
that the force despatched for their salvation 
had been repulsed. Quick as thought she 
dashed down the staircase, and told the men 
by the door what she had seen. Two of 
them ran to the door, wdiile Cole immediately 
sprang to one of the loopholes. 

“ It’s all right,” he cried ; “ it’s an officer, 
and I doubt he brings us bad news. Stand 
by at the door ; the Sepoys have caught sight 
of him, and are blazing at him like mad.” 
Another instant-, and the panels are struck 
sharply from the outside ; the door opens 
immediately in response, and Denton, passing 
in, gazes round upon the besieged, with whom 
necessity has compelled him to take refuge. 
His astonishment knew no bounds when, 
facing him, he saw the young lady whom he 
had so much admired at the Hunt Ball in 
Kent. Covered with blood and grimed with 
powder, Molly did not, in the least, recognise 
the fugitive, and it was not till he exclaimed : 

“ Miss Lepel, don’t you know me ? ” that 
she cried in tones of astonishment, “ Captain 
Denton ! ” 

Such was our hero’s “ Baptism of Fire.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

“ MINE AND COUNTER-MINE.” 

AWCETT, Cole, and the other English- 



men, now crowded round Denton, 


anxious to learn the particulars of last night’s 
fighting, but Molly quickly interfered in his 
behalf. 

“ You are wounded. Captain Denton,” she 
said, “ I think the doctor had better look to 
your hurts, before we listen to the bad news 
I am afraid you bring us.” 

“I am very little hurt,” he replied. 
“ Nothing beyonl what a little cold water 
and a plaister will speedily put to rights. 
Last time I saw you. Miss Lepel, I was re- 
gretting I had never seen active service. I 
little thought my debut was to be made in 
such miserable fashion.” 

“ Ah ! you were beaten back, then,” said 
the Judge, “ we feared so from the manner in 
which the firing rolled away from us.” 

“ Yes,” said Denton, somewhat bitterly, 
“ we were caught like rats in a trap, when 
we got within about a mile of you, and they 
will have hard work to regain the banks of 
the S6n, I fear.” 


134 


BAD TO BEAT. 


“ But how did you escape ? ” enquired Cole. 

“ I take it I was left for dead on the field, 
but the bullet, fortunately for me, only 
grazed my head, instead of going through it, 
and after being insensible for some time, I 
recovered, to find myself the only living 
creature on the scene of last night’s disaster. 
We were retreating when I was knocked over. 
The column was out of sight when I came to 
myself, with, I take it, pretty near the whole 
of the rebels at its heels.” 

“ Yes, that would be it, no doubt ” re- 
marked Fawcett, “ they are very languid in 
their attacks this morning, but their comrades 
will be back, no doubt, in the course of the 
day, and then they will press us hard again.” 

“ Still,” rejoined Cole, “ they know we’re 
beleaguered, at Dinapore ; and I have no 
doubt another force will be despatched to our 
rescue.” 

“ Your situation is thoroughly understood,” 
replied Denton, “ and I think we may be 
pretty certain that another effort will be 
made to relieve us before long, but these 
fellows are too numerous to handle without 
artillery. A couple of field guns with us last 
night, and a little more caution in our 
advance, and we might have had a different 
story to tell ; and now,” he continued, “ as 


AND COTJNTEJI-MINE: 


135 


soon as I’ve washed a little of all this dirt 
off me, I shall be fit for duty, and at the dis- 
posal of whoever commands you.” 

Ere the day was over, tumultuous shouting, 
and much firing of muskets announced the 
return of the victorious mutineers. Almost 
immediately the fire from the big house in- 
creased in intensity, and the slightest exposure 
on the part of the besieged, was sufficient to 
cause the discharge of a dozen or so of 
muskets. At sundown the_ Sepoys, standing 
behind one of the pillars of the big house, 
summoned the defendants to surrender, in 
sonorous tones, but the little garrison re- 
ceived the summons, as usual, with con- 
temptuous indifference. Not only had they 
stout hearts amongst them, but the English- 
men were men with much knowledge of India, 
and knew that it was better to die with their 
faces to the foe, than to trust to the mercies of 
rebellious Sepoys, mad with blood and plunder. 

As soon as Denton bad washed away the 
traces of last night’s fray, and had his head 
looked at by the surgeon, he at once asked for 
a rifle and put himself at Cole’s disposal. The 
two men speedily took to each other. They 
were of that type of which England has ever 
found many in her hour of need, men whom 
no difficulties or dangers daunt, and who stick 


13 $ 


BAD TO BEAT. 


to their designs with a bull-dog pertinacity, 
that considerably lessens the chance of failure 
in everything they may undertake. Cole, 
too, was gratified by another piece of delicacy 
upon the part of Denton. He had thought 
most unjustly that, as a military man, the 
latter might consider he had a right to take 
charge of the defence, but such an idea had 
never crossed Denton’s mind. He placed 
himself at once under Cole’s orders, as a 
simple volunteer, having ascertained from 
Miss Lepel that it was the civil engineer who 
had prepared their fortress, and so far con- 
ducted the defence of the place. Cole lost 
no time, but showing him rapidly all over the 
house,"pointed out to him their weak places, 
and then said : 

“ Like all other sieges that I’ve read of, 
we must simply hold out as long as we can, 
and make good any damage the enemy may 
do our defences as we best can. I don’t 
know what sort of a shot you are, but if you 
are a good rifle man you will be of very great 
value to us. We are fortunate in having 
Judge Lepel and Fawcett here, who in pursuit 
of big game have learnt to shoot with deadly 
accuracy. The Sepoys, remember, have no 
rifles, and make but wild practice with their 
muskets ; furthermore they lose heart con- 


''MINE AND counter-mine: 


137 


isiderably the minute four or five of them 
get knocked over. 

The morrow showed that the Sepoys now 
meant prosecuting the siege in bitter earnest. 
They had taken advantage of the night to 
build a large bonfire within some twenty or 
thirty yards of the house. Although their 
movements had not altogether escajied the 
vigilance of the sentries, and although more 
than once the muskets of the Sikhs had 
flashed fierce defiance through the night air, 
yet they were unable to detect what the 
enemy were about, nor could their fire be 
expected to prove very deterrent in the 
darkness. The besieged were all puzzled 
when they saw this pile of wood and brush 
in the morning. What could it mean. The 
wind certainly sets from that quarter, but 
they can hardly hope to fire the house from 
that distance. Practical Cole, however, 
rapidly rose to the occasion. 

“ I understand it no more than the rest of 
you,” he remarked drily, “ but of one thing 
we may be certain, that it is not intended for 
our benefit. I think. Judge, if you, Fawcett 
and Captain Denton would just occupy the 
loop-holes commanding it, and make it the 
most unsafe possible piece of work to 
continue, it would be advisable.” 


138 


BAD TO BEAT. 


Cole’s order was promptly obeyed, and 
before half an hour had elapsed, some half- 
dozen Sepoys stretched lifeless alongside the 
pile had convinced their comrades that the con- 
tinuing of that work was best postponed till 
nightfall. Once more a storm of musketry 
rattled about the walls of the little house, and 
it quickly struck Cole and Denton tliat this 
was merely to mask some other operation for 
their destruction. Still, the besiegers were 
not going to waste cartridges. Like the 
immortal Ealph de Shurland, they recognised 
that there were no windows to break, and 
that the foe could not get in ; but they felt 
it was no time to emulate his serenity and go 
to bed. Towards the afternoon, the new 
idea of the enemy became developed, and it 
was easy to see that he had succeeded in 
hoisting a small field-gun to the roof of the 
big house ; but to the mounting of that 
piece, the defendants were able to put in a 
severe demurrer. The small house stood upon 
higher ground, and thus commanded the big, 
and from its roof the Judge, Fawcett and 
Denton’s deadly tubes effectually checked 
all attempts to get the gun in position as long 
as the light lasted. 

“ They will mount it to-night,” said 
Denton, as the trio descended from the 


MINE AND COXJNTDR-AIINE:' 


139 


housetop, “but as to what damage it may 
inflict upon us, that we can’t know till they 
open fire. I suppose you think I am all 
wrong, but I feel more uncomfortable about 
that bonfire than the gun. I suppose,” he 
said, with a laugh, “the danger we don’t 
understand always carries more terrors than 
the one we do.” 

All through the night the besieged could 
hear the Sepoys busy about the bonfire they 
were raising, and though the angry muskets 
of the Sikhs spit fitfully and waspishly 
through the darkness, they did little harm ; 
nor did they hinder the mutineers’ operations 
to any great extent. With the morning came 
a thing the besieged thought little of at the 
time, which was ultimately destined to be of 
the greatest possible service to them — to wit 
considerable vacillation on the part of the 
wind. As Denton had foretold, the Sepoys 
had got their small field-gun into position 
during the darkness, and lost no time in 
trying its effect. 

“ Well, Captain Denton, what do you 
say?” exclaimed Cole after the first discharge, 
and as he saw a foot or two of the small 
earthen parapet that surrounded the roof 
of the house knocked to pieces. 

“ That gun,” rejoined Denton, “ was loaded 


140 


BAD TO BEAT. 


with odds and ends. My impression is, they 
have got no proper ammunition. Moreover 
our rifles ought as yet to keep the fire of 
that gun under. Their gunners, so far, have 
scant protection. Let them fire another shot, 
and then I’ll guarantee the judge, myself, and 
the collector will spoil their practice.” 

They had not to wait long. Boom came 
another shot, and this time, no doubt it was a 
genuine six-pounder. 

“ It is getting time this sort of thing was 
put a stop to,” said Denton, grimly, as he 
dropped a double-barrelled rifle he had 
selected from the armoury into tiie hollow of 
his left hand. Another minute and an 
energetic Sepojg busied about the gun, sprang 
high in the air and then fell dead by its side. 
There was evident consternation on the roof of 
the big house at this shot. The slain man was a 
native officer, and the rebels had a wholesome 
terror of the Sahib’s rifles. They were aware 
that these Englishmen were in possession of 
weapons that not only carried much farther 
than their own, but were much more accui ate 
in the hands of an expert, and they had 
already learnt that amongst the besieged 
were some deadly marksmen. Had they pos- 
sessed the courage to rush or storm the house 
the superiority of these marksmen would have 


^‘■MINE AND counter-mine: 


141 


gone for very little, but so long as tlie}^ chose 
to play the game of long bowls, then such 
shots as the Judge, Fawcett, and Denton, with 
arms of precision in their hands, scored 
heavily against their assailants. Although 
unable to entirely silence the field piece, yet 
the deadly fire of the besiegers kept it down 
considerably, and another thing that the de- 
fendants noted with great satisfaction, was 
that the Sepoys were short of regular ammu- 
nition for their piece of artillery. 

Still, at intervals the big gun boomed all 
through the day, while the musketry fire was 
incessant, and during the night they could 
hear the besiegers busily at work at their 
bonfire, and just as day dawned, they set fire to 
it. Cole, who was on the roof, after one steady 
gaze at the burning pile through a field glass 
suddenly exclaimed, “The crafty devils ! Look 
through the glass, Denton ; all the top part is 
simply chilis, the raw material of the red 
pepper. If the wind does not stand our friend 
now, there will be nothing for it but to make 
a sortie, and endeavour to put out that fire. 

“ There will be no necessity for a sortie,” 
rejoined Denton. “Luckily for us the wind 
is taking the smoke well away from us. Had 
it blown our way, I doubt whether we should 
have been able to stand it. However, in this 


H2 


BAD TO BEAT. 


case, it is the engineer hoisted with his own 
petard, and only that, fortunately for them- 
selves, their house lies very much further than 
ours from that blazing pile, they woiild have 
had to temporarily raise the siege at any rate. 

All through that afternoon the Sepoys 
manifested great activity, and it was soon ap- 
parent that they had succeeded in getting a 
second gun on to the roof of their house, but 
profiting by their former experiences, they' 
deferred mounting it till after sunset. The 
bonfire, it is true, had done the besieged no 
harm, nor had the first gun, so far, but they 
were all indications of tire enemy’s determi- 
nation to press the siege with vigour. StiH, the 
besieged had proved themselves fully equal to 
every emergency, so far, but they could not , 
get over the fact that supplies were running 
short, and in fact already the supply of water 
was beginning to fail them. 

However, Cole was a man of great fertility 
of resource ; and acting under his directions, 
in a very few hours they had dug a well, and 
struck water, so that their minds were at rest 
with regard to that great essential. It was 
not long before they discovered that the enemy 
were busily engaged driving a mine their way, 
and Cole and Denton at once set themselves 
to meet this with a counter-mine, leaving 


‘^MIND AND COUNTER-MINE." 143 

Fawcett and the Judge on the roof, to keep in 
check the artillery fire of their assailants. 
These t-wo, aided by a few of the Sikh soldiers, 
set to work with a will, and so accurately had 
Cole divined the track of the enemy’s mine, 
that ere long they could hear the faint sound 
of the Sepoys’ working tools. After listening 
for some time, Denton came out of the gallery 
and said to Cole, ‘‘I have stopped work 
simply because I should say they are making 
dead for us, but go in and listen, and see what 
you make of it.” 

After a few minutes Cole returned and re- 
joined, “I should say that I’ve gauged them 
to a foot. I should think they will work 
straight into our gallery.” 

“ Now,” said Denton, “ I am going to ask 
you, just to leave this to me. They surprised 
us the other night, and I should just like to 
give them a little surprise in their turn.” 

“ What are you going to do,” enquired Cole. 

“I am just going to sit in that gallery in 
the dark till they break through, and the 
leader of that party will never see sunlight 
again.” 

“ Yes, that will be the best way. I think we 
may leave the mine in your hands for the 
present.” 

Another moment, with his revolver at his 


10 


H4 


BAD TO BEAT. 


belt, and a dark lantern in his hand, Denton 
was once more crawling towards the head of 
the shaft. Having arrived there, he drew the 
shade over his lantern, loosened his revolver 
in his belt, and awaited events. Tick ! Tick! 
Click ! Click ! the faint sound gets stronger 
and stronger every minute. He has crouched 
there more than an hour, and it was now 
evident that his foes were very near at hand. 
Louder and louder grows the click, click ; 
he can even hear the voices as the man at the 
head of the shaft passes back the earth he 
has dug out, to be in its turn passed out of 
the gallery by his followers. 

It is evident they are working very hard; a 
few minutes more, and the pickaxe comes 
through. He can hear the exclamation of 
surprise with which the Sepoy finds that he 
has broken into a chamber of some sort. 
Under the impression that he has struck a 
cellar, he quickly enlarges the hole, then 
raising his lantern he peers through, to see 
what manner of place this is he has got into. 
That he is never destined to know. Ere his 
eyes can take in the details, Denton’s bullet 
crashes through the brain of the luckless rebel, 
and he can hear the other Sepoys wriggling 
their way back out of the gallery, as fast as 
they can scuttle. 


CHAPTEE XII. 

THE SORTIE. 

“ ^APTAIX DENTON, I hear you’ve 
done us splendid service,” said Miss 
Lepel, as she encountered him, covered with 
dust, after that little adventure in the mine. 

“I don’t know about that,” he rejoined 
with a smile. “Cole, if you like, did splendid 
service by the exact accuracy with which his 
counter-mine was laid. Any one of us could 
have played my part in the business, but I 
had a personal grudge to resent, and begged 
permission to do so. You see the Sepoys out- 
witted us on our way down here, and to re- 
turn that compliment was a temptation not to 
be resisted.” 

“I quite understand,” rejoined Molly, 
meaningly ; “ but, in the meantime — don’t 
think Mrs. Cole and I are in despair about it, 
but the larder is getting low, and we shall 
shortly have to serve you up that famous old 
border dish, which the dames of the four- 
teenth and fifteenth centuries were wont to 
send up to their lords.” 

“ Ah ! the spurs,” said Denton, laughing ; 


146 


BAD TO BEAT. 


“ as a hint to the goodman of the house, that 
it was time he rode on the foray. Not much 
difficulty about that, Miss Lepel. A dash in 
the night time, covered by a sharp fire from 
the house, against these curs, promptly car- 
ried out, would entail very little risk upon us. 
Still,” he continued with a smile, “ you must 
give us one more night before you serve the 
spurs, because one essential of a dash of this 
nature is to to know what you are dashing for.” 

“ Quite so, my lord,” replied Molly with a 
mock curtsey. “ We will give you yet a few 
hours to study where live the fattest of beeves 
or the best gram-fed sheep.” 

“ I must look at it again,” rejoined Denton, 
“ but it strikes me, there is a small go-down 
adjoining the house opposite, which is given 
up to the finest sheep the rebels have been 
able to lay their hands on, reserved I fancy, 
for the dainty appetites of their leaders. In 
all great upheavals the scum that come tem- 
porarily to the top always revel in the in- 
dulgence of their sensual appetites. Eobes- 
pierre, ‘ The Incorruptible,’ I have no doubt, 
indulged freely in champagne and truffles, ere 
he took his seat in the tumbrils, while the 
bloodthirsty Marat, doubtless, was particular 
about his Cliambertin and pates, till that little 
interview with Charlotte Corday so abruptly 


THE SORTIE. 


147 


terminated his career. I will have my eye, 
Miss Lepel, on that out-house this afternoon, 
and if I think it is worth going for, we’ll see 
what is in it to-night.” 

“ Nonsense, Captain Denton, you will pay 
no such serious attention to the words of a girl 
like me. All I mean is this, that if you, Mr. 
Cole and the others, see a fair chance of a suc- 
cessful foray, more provisions will be very ac- 
ceptable. Neither Mrs. Cole nor I are nervous, 
we have perfect faith in your ability to beat the 
enemy off for many a day yet, but you must be 
fed, you know, and as Mrs. Cole says, ‘ dinner is 
ever a weight on a good housekeeper’s mind.’ ” 

A new difficulty, with men like Cole and 
Denton, was simply a thing to be overcome. 
If more food was wanted, and Cole pei'fectly 
understood that it well might be, well then, 
more food must be procured in some way or 
other. Close upon seventy souls take a con- 
siderable amount of feeding, and extensively 
as Cole had victualled his house, still he had 
never contemplated providing for so large a 
garrison as was now within its walls. Not 
that he could have wished them to be a man 
less, for had it not been for their numbers, 
they would by this have been worn down by 
sheer bodily fatigue ; but they were strong 
enough to indulge; a third of them taking their 


148 


BAD TO BEAT. 


much needed rest at a time ; and give men only 
fairly sufficient food and some six or seven 
hours’ sleep, and they will last a long time, 
let the work be never so hard. Cole and 
Denton studied this out-house for some time 
during that afternoon, the latter also occupy- 
ing himself with prompt use of his rifle, when- 
ever the Sepoys in their over-eagerness to use 
their artillery exposed themselves. Indeed, the 
bitter sharp-shooting of himself, the judge, 
and Fawcett had made the working of those 
field pieces a job not exactly suited to the 
enemy’s taste. The two watchers could not 
make out exactly what was in the .go-down. 
They saw Sepoys twice disappear into it with 
buckets, evidently, by the way they were 
carried — full, and by the way they were 
brought back — as equally evident — empty. 

“ We must hope it’s sheep,” said Denton, 
at last, though it may be bullocks ; but if 
they’re eatable animals, I should think it is 
most likely the former. Still there is one thing 
clear, they keep animals of some kind there, and 
we can only trust they are of an eatable nature.” 

“ Pretty sure to be that,” laughed Cole. 
“The most important question is, are they 
portable ? Sheep you could kill, and carry off 
easily, but bullocks would be awkward, no time 
to drive them and too heavy to carry dead.” 


THE SORTIE. 


14:9 


“ With your permission I’ll give them a 
look in to-night at any rate,” rejoined Denton. 

It was resolved to wait till midnight before 
making the proposed raid on the enemy’s 
live stock. ConMent in their numbers, the 
Sepoys never dreamed of the initiative being 
taken by those whom they already regarded 
as their prey. That the besieged when driven 
to extremities, might make a desperate 
attempt to escape in the darkness, they 
looked upon as probable, but they could 
trust their Scouts and sentries to detect such 
a movement as that, and were only too 
anxious that the finish should come in that 
wise. They knew that the little band’s 
chance would be hopeless in the open. 
Shortly after the moon was down, fifteen of 
the Sikhs, headed by Cole and Denton, stole 
noiselessly out of a loop-holed side door, and 
made their way across the compound towards 
the big house. They got pretty close to it, 
and then dashed at the go-down they coveted 
sharply. The one sentry near it was cut 
down by Denton, though not before he had 
fired his musket. But it was so common a 
practice of . the mutineers to occasionally 
discharge their pieces in the direction of the 
small house during the night, that it did not 
attract so much attention as it otherwise 


160 


BAB TO BEAT. 


would have done. Still the breaking open 
of the door of the outhouse, and the prompt 
shooting of half-a-score of the sheep it con- 
tained, speedily aroused the mutineers from 
their slumbers. A cry arose that the 
Feringhees were upon them, and panic for a 
moment seized upon the rebels. Their first 
impression was that the English had surprised 
them, they never dreamt that the besieged 
had had the audacity to make a sortie. But 
in a very few minutes they became aware 
that their assailants were but a handful, and 
awoke to the real state of the case. Then 
they discharged their muskets wildly in every 
direction, and turned out in hundreds to 
annihilate the intruders. But those few 
minutes’ delay had been invaluable. The 
Sikhs had slain as many sheep as they could 
conveniently carry, and the little party was 
rapidly retreating across the compound, to its 
own quarters. It had been a most successful 
foray, and the foragers regained their house 
with only one trifling casualty. One Sikh, 
indeed, owed his immunity to his burden, for 
a couple of random bullets had buried them- 
selves in the sheep he was carrying. 

The two ladies were waiting in the inner 
hall, under the orders of the doctor, in ex- 
pectation of having wounded men to see to. 


THE SORTIE. 


151 


and the one sufferer was speedily placed in 
their hands. 

“ A splendid haul, Miss Lepel,” cried 
Denton, laughing. “ If we can only find out 
another butcher’s shop or two to clear out, 
you need never fear that the larder won’t be 
kept plentifully filled. I wish you could have 
seen our procession back. Ten men, each 
carrying a dead sheep. Cole, myself, and the 
five others, covering the retreat.” 

“ You’ve done splendidly,” replied the girl, 
“ and, best of all, without loss. When I heard 
their yells and the musketry I was afraid some 
of you would never come back.” 

“ That fellow Denton,” said Cole aside to 
the Collector, “ fairly revels in a row. Before 
this mutiny is put down he will have avenged 
a good many European lives, if he is not 
knocked over.” 

It is not very easy to imagine the feelings 
of hard, ruthless natures, such as Denton’s, at 
that time They felt that no possible reprisals 
could be too much on the murderers of 
women and children. Then again the mili- 
tary instinct was strong to boot. These were 
soldiers who had risen and in many cases mur- 
dered their own officers. Men like Denton 
would have fain made it a war without 
quarter, and indeed such record as there is 


152 


BAD TO BEAT. 


shows that whole regiments of Pandies were 
exterminated without mercy. Still, though 
their hearts never sank, yet the besieged knew 
that the time must come, if they were not 
rescued, when they would be at the end of 
their resources, and nothing would remain for 
them but to die. 

At Dinapore, when the broken remains of 
Dunbar’s column reached there, it was looked 
upon that the fate of Arrah was sealed. What 
could a handful of Europeans and fifty Sikhs 
do against six thousand trained troops and a 
large body of irregulars ? And yet, our whole 
history of India teems with triumphant 
answers to such a question. But already 
there was one man who believed that a dozen 
or so of Englishmen with fifty Sikh soldiers 
behind them would take a deal of putting 
out of any place they had made up their 
mind to hold, by any Sepoys, however nume- 
rous. Eyre’s scouts had already brought him 
information that Arrah still held out, and he 
was even now advancing, though the garrison 
knew it not, rapidly to their relief. In the 
meanwhile the Sepoys redoubled their fire 
upon the small house, did their best to tamper 
with the Sikhs, and were pertinacious in sum- 
moning the garrison to surrender. One thing 
only did they carefully abstain from doing, they 


THE SORTIE. 


163 


shrank from risking their rebel skins in an as- 
sault. Acurious illustration of how odds may be 
disregarded by the European when brought face 
to face with the Asiatic, is to be found in the 
siege of Lucknow. The European garrison held 
out until relieved by Sir Colin Campbell at the 
Residency for eighty-four days. When the city 
was in its turn beleaguered by the English the 
Asiatics occupied the abandoned Residency 
in considerable force. But it fell to Outram’s 
victorious advance in about half-an-hour. 

For the next two days the fire of the rebels 
was unceasing. Despite the sharp rifle-fire 
from the little house, they worked their two 
guns with considerable activity. Still the 
defenders made good every night the damage 
inflicted during the day, and the mutineers 
were made to feel by the marksmen of the 
little house that the working of those guns 
was fraught with considerable danger. Many 
of them fell beneath the deadly bullets of the 
Judge, Fawcett and Denton. The besieged 
had made two dashing sorties in search of 
provender, but their assailants were now 
thoroughly on the qui vive. The results had 
been simply the loss of two of their Sikh 
soldiers and the wounding of some half-a- 
dozen more of the party, amongst which latter, 
the last time, must be included the Collector. 


154 


BAD TO BEAT. 


One morning, Cole and Denton, keenly- 
studying their opponents’ position with their 
glasses, agreed that, as far as they could judge, 
there was a considerable diminution in their 
numbers. Certain it was that the attack was 
no longer pushed with the energy of the two 
preceding days, and in the afternoon the 
garrison fancied they could hear the faint 
boom of cannon in the distance. Whether it 
really was the case, or whether it portended 
the slightest good to them, they had no con- 
ception. But it was an anxious time for the 
chiefs of the defence. Cole and Denton had 
taken accurate stock of the provisions that 
morning, and had come to the conclusion that, 
even on half rations, four or five days was the 
most they could prolong their resistance. 
Still the slackening of the besiegers’ efforts 
was a favourable sign, and then again was 
this really the boom of artillery that they had 
heard in the far distance, or had they imagined 
it ? A singularly quiet night, and the next 
day Cole and his colleague became more than 
ever convinced that the mutineers for some 
reason or other had withdrawn the main 
portion of their force from Arrah. Can this 
mean that relief is nigh, and again, is it this 
time destined to be successful ? In the 
course of the afternoon the thunder of Eyre’s 


IBB SORTIE. 


165 


guns fell distinctly upon their ears, and there 
could be little doubt that a force of some kind 
with artillery at its back was advancing their 
way. Another quiet night, but a reconnais- 
sance still shows that the enemy are in pos- 
session of the big house and keenly alive to 
any intrusion on their premises. They turn 
out promptly, and send their bullets freely 
hissing into the darkness. 

At daybreak the besieged are struck with the 
unnatural quiet that has fallen upon the can- 
tonment. The usual salvo of artillery with 
which they are accustomed to be regaled from 
the top of the big house, is omitted. Not a 
musket is discharged ; there are neither the 
derisive shouts of the mutineers, nor the 
clang of their brass instruments to be heard. 
What can be the meaning of this portentous 
stillness ? Is it a ruse of the enemy to lure 
them from their fortress, or can it be possible 
that, terrified at the advance of some relieving 
force, the mutineers have retired ? For 
some hours they so mistrust ambuscade and 
treachery, that they still cling closely to 
their citadel ; but as the morning draws on, 
Denton and a handful of trusty Sikhs 
determine to reconnoitre. They creep out, 
and the stillness is of death ; not a shot is 
fired at them, not a sound but the faint sigh 


166 


BAD TO BEAT. 


of the wind through the. trees, breaks the 
stillness of the compound. From the native 
town itself, comes no sign of life. It almost 
gives the idea that Arrah is deserted of man, 
save that little band in the small house. 
Cautiously they feel their way, but no, not a 
Sepoy is in sight, not a musket flashes 
angry defiance at them. Quickly Denton 
comes to the conclusion that the big house is 
abandoned. He makes his way there at once, 
and finds that his surmise is correct. He 
scours it from basement to roof, finding 
everywhere traces of a hasty stampede. 
The two light field-pieces on the top of the 
house, are still left standing, but there is 
most assuredly not a rebel left within its walls. 

The little party now pushed forward in the 
direction of the native town. As far as the 
mutineers went, that also was abandoned, 
but the luckless sho})keepers and sowcars in 
the bazaar sat cowering in their respective 
places of business. Like most of their class, 
the mutiny had brought sore tribulation 
to them. They had been looted by the 
mutineers, and knew not what they might 
expect from the advancing Feringhees One 
tiling only was clear. The leaguer of the 
small house at Arrah was raised. 


CHAPTEE XIII. 


AT CALCUTTA. 

I T was not long before their deliverers made 
their appearance. Arrah was relieved, 
but Eyre made no long stay at that station. 
He had plenty to do elsewhere, and carrying 
off with him the gallant band that had made 
such a heroic defence, he pushed off, to, if 
possible, annihilate Kunwar Singh, but 
speedily discovered that the beaten rebels 
had fled towards their original point, Delhi, 
while the crafty old landowner had betaken 
himself, at the head of his followers, tem- 
porarily to the jungle ; destined to give much 
trouble yet, this recalcitrant Talookdar, before 
his career should be finished. As soon as 
possible, the Lepels and Denton made their 
way to Dinapore, where the latter’s reappear- 
ance struck Mr. Nuthall and one or two 
other officers dumb with amazement. 

“ It isn’t your ghost ! ” exclaimed Bobby 
at last, as he wrung his captain’s hand for 
about two minutes. “ I saw you knocked 
over, and helped to drag you into the grove, 
where I left you- for dead. If we had had 
an idea there was any life in you, we would 


168 


DAD TO DEAT. 


have struggled hard to carry you with us. 
Whether we should have succeeded, Heaven 
knows ; there were not many of us reached 
the banks of the Son again.” 

“ Ah ! I guessed as much,” replied Benton 
quietly. “ Those fellows, I suppose, hung on 
your rear till you reached the river, and 
there were such swarms of them, that it was 
almost a wonder they did not annihilate you.” 

“ But what became of you ? Let’s hear 
how you escaped.” * 

“ Well,” rejoined Denton, “ mine, you see, 
was a case which the Irish so delicately 
distinguish. ‘ I was kilt, but not kilt dead.’ 
When I recovered my senses, I made my 
way into Arrah ; we’ve had a roughish 
time there, but we kept them at bay, until 
Eyre came to our relief, and gave those 
Dinapore mutineers a proper thrashing. He 
had guns with him, and, by Jove-! he knows 
how to use them.” 

“You’re just in time,” replied Bobby, 
“ we move on in a day or two.” 

Denton asked nothing better. The success- 
ful defence of Arrah, and the loss they had 
inflicted on the mutineers during the siege, 
had been some salve to his feelings, but the 
terrible disaster that had befallen Dunbar’s 
column still rankled in his mind, and he felt 


AT CALCUTTA. 


159 


that he had a personal score to settle with 
the rebels. Before they marched, however, 
he had to say "ood-bye to Molly, and he no 
longer concealed from himself that he had 
conceived a great admiration for that young 
lady. Still, this was no time for whispering 
a love tale into a girl’s ear ; there was man’s 
work before him, as he knew for many a 
month as yet, and march and counter-march, 
and stubborn fighting, before that terrible 
blaze in Bengal should be finally stamped out. 

“ W(ill, Miss Lepel,” he said, “ I’ve come to 
bid you good-bye. I little thought when we 
met at Maidstone, that my first bit of active 
service was to be done side by side with 
yourself. You deserve a decoration for your 
pluck and spirit, as much as any of us, if ever 
they give a ribbon for this campaign.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” replied Molly, 
laughing. “ Mr. Cole, Mr. Fawcett, dear 
Papa, and yourself, would have inspired any 
girl, with courage. Mrs. Cole and myself did 
our best to be useful in our own way. I 
hope we were, we found plenty of woman’s 
work to do — ” 

“ And did it right well,” he interposed 
warmly, “ we have all much to thank you 
for. Yes, one and all did their best,” he con- 
tinued, with a flash of enthusiasm, “ and the 


11 


160 


BAD TO. BEAT. 


result was we succeeded, as we shall in the 
future. There is warm work before us, doubt- 
less, but we’ve plenty of leaders who don’t 
know what being beaten means.” 

“ Captain Denton,” rejoined Molly, “ you 
can’t suppose that I, who saw what a handful 
of you did with the thousands of mutineers 
who surrounded us at Arrah, can have much 
doubt about the ultimate triumph of England. 
I don’t know what my destination is exactly, 
but I am to be sent out of harm’s way, and I 
fancy that means Calcutta. I hope we shall 
meet again some day and talk over the siege 
of the small house at Arrah.” 

“We shall meet again, if I live,” replied 
Denton, in a low tone, “ as I shall have 
something to say to you then, which, with what 
lies before me, it would be unfair to say now.” 

Molly’s lips quivered as she stretched out 
her hand to bid him farewell. Her heart 
was by no means out of her own keeping as 
yet, but she liked him, she admired his cool 
courage, and firm, resolute manner, and then 
she had gone through deadly peril with this 
man by her side. He was going forth, into 
what, it was only too clear, was a whirlpool 
of bitter strife, and though if Molly had been 
asked she would have said that she had little 
fear for this dauntless paragon of hers, yet it 


AT CALCUTIA. 


161 


is the best and the bravest who always fall on 
such occasions, so that Molly’s voice might 
well shake a little as she bade him adieu. 
Denton did not know it, but it may be 
doubted whether any. direct declaration of 
his love would have served his turn so well. 

Once at the front, and Denton soon became 
a man of mark. With iron nerve, and untiring 
energy, he joined — what so many of the 
heroes of the mutiny times then got their 
first chance of showing they possessed — a 
thoroughly military instinct. They say that 
poets are born, not made, and the same may 
be said of military chiefs. Denton soon 
acquired the character of being a cool, if 
ruthless partisan — a man who revelled in 
daring and dangerous exploits, reckless of his 
own person, and pitiless in the pursuit of a 
beaten enemy. The Black Captain, as he was 
dubbed, in consequence of his swarthy com- 
plexion, soon became a name of terror to the 
mutineers. During his previous career in 
the country he had acquired the language, 
and soon succeeded in obtaining permission 
to raise a body of irregular horse, and thus 
arrived at an independent command. He 
picked his men carefully, and had already 
made himself such a reputation that the 
Siklis flocked to his standard. He very soon 


162 


BAD TO BEAT, 


had these men in capital order, and after two 
or three experiments, felt that he could lead 
them anywhere, or at anything. Like many 
other such irregular regiments, Denton’s Horse 
speedily acquired a renown equal to that of 
Hodson’s or Probyn’s, though, like the former 
of those officers, he bore the reputation of 
being merciless in his hour of triumph. 

It may be all very well, looking back over 
a quarter of a century, to talk of the lesson 
read the mutineers in those days being 
administered with exceeding bitterness, but it 
must be borne in mind, that it was dealt by 
men who had seen the brutal barbarities of the 
Sepoys to their countrymen, aye, and women, 
committed almost under their very eyes. “Ven- 
geance is mine, saith the Lord,” but I fancy 
that man under these circumstances, will ever 
take prompt reprisal into his own hand when 
able. If the Sepoys had jeered with fiendish 
glee at the massacres of Nana Sahib, it was with 
grim satisfaction that our soldiery saw them 
blown away from guns, by scores, and there 
was little quarter either given or expected 
during the fierce series of assaults that 
characterised the taking of Lucknow. It 
does not come within the scope of this story 
to follow Denton through that famous siege, 
or the subsequent wild work that accom- 


AT CALCUTTA. 


163 


panied the conquest of Oude, but Miss Lepel, 
who had been safely consigned to the care of 
old friends of the judge’s, at Calcutta, had no 
difficulty in following the career of her 
admirer in the papers. He was Major Denton 
now, and his name well known to all the 
prominent chiefs of the English army. As 
was said of a gallant soldier who died but 
yesterday, in the arms of victory, “ Ah, 
Denton will get there somehow, whatever 
may be in the way.” 

It was hard and ceaseless work, that final 
repression of the mutiny. 

The marching and forced marching seemed 
interminable. There was perpetual fighting, 
and yet it was fighting so constantly without 
satisfactory result ; there was no getting the 
rebels to make a determined stand, they re- 
treated precipitately as soon as ever they 
found themselves getting the worst of it, and 
as they always outmarched our men, the 
English soldiers tramped many a wearisome 
mile with no result. In Central India, the 
ubiquitous Tantia Topee crossed and re- 
crossed the Nerbudda, but baffled all attempts 
to bring him to bay. He half broke the 
hearts of many a dashing leader, who thought 
they had pinned him at last, by the dexterity 
of his evasions. 


1C4 


BAB TO BEAT. 


Our old friend Kunwar Singh was another 
of the same sort, as difficult to bring to book 
as the moss troopers of the Scottish border, 
Mdio would fight or fly, just as it pleased them, 
blit the old Kajpoot chiefs hour had come. 

After plotting a daring raid on Benares, 
then almost destitute of garrison, he was, 
more by good luck than generalship, arrested 
when his success looked assured. Although 
by no means defeated in the action which 
checked his career, he withdrew precipitately, 
but not before a grape sliot had shattered his 
hand, which rendered amputation at the wrist 
necessary. The shock was too great for the 
old warrior, and one of our bitterest and 
ablest foes troubled us no longer. 

The Moulvie also had fallen, and Tantia 
Topee soon afterwards shared his doom, and 
with these three fell all of the insurgents 
that had ever displayed military capacity. 
Nana Sahib, it was true, had eluded our grasp, 
but, though he had been the falsest of our 
foes and no man in all Hindostan had so well 
merited death at our hands, still he had never 
shown himself a general in the slightest de- 
gree. He disappeared, and his fate still seems 
involved in as much mystery as what has be- 
come of the lost tribes of Israel. The fierce 
struggle of the last two years is over, and the 


AT CALCUTTA. 


165 


mutiny is at length stamped out. Neither 
rebellious Sepoy nor discontented Talookdar 
offers further resistance to the conqueror. 

Oude lies prostrate at the feet of the 
Feringhee, but none of her nobles or land- 
owners di earn of contending further against 
their kismet. The commander-in-chief is so 
thoroughly satisfied tliat the work is effectu- 
ally done, that it is made known that officers 
wishing for leave may now send in their 
applications ; and after the long and arduous 
campaign they have undergone, it is only 
natural that many should snatch at the oppor- 
tunity of a few months in which to run home 
and see their friends. Such had been the dire 
necessity of the case, that many of the officers 
had sailed for the East without saying good- 
bye to those near and dear to them, and, now 
that perhaps one of the most bloodthirsty 
wars of latter times had been brought to a 
conclusion, were only too glad to go back and 
see how it fared with those they loved. 

Miss Lepel was down again at Calcutta. 
She had never set eyes upon Denton since he 
had bidden her good-bye at Dinapore, and 
did not even at present know where he was. 
She had read, as we know, plenty concerning 
his doings, in the papers, but, with the sup- 
pression of the great mutiny, there came 


1C6 


BAD TO BEAT. 


naturally, a cessation of deeds of derring-do, 
and the whereabouts of these paladins was 
by no means so easy to trace. She was 
driving one evening with some friends, when 
their carriage pulled up to listen to the band. 
It was after sunset, and the darkness made 
it difficult to distinguish people at a little 
distance, unless they stepped within range of 
the lights of the music-stands. 

Suddenl}’, a voice fell upon her ear, that 
she had a vague notion of having heard 
before, though she had no recollection of 
when or where. It came from a little knot 
of men who were, apparently, discussing some 
subject with considerable animation. The 
speaker, indeed, was waxing vehement in the 
statement of his opinion. 

“ Don’t tell me,” he said ; “ Eed Eock will 
win clever enough. I believe he is a good 
horse, but it’s not that ; I’m backing the 
man. I’ve seen him across country and be- 
tween flags, and I’ve seen him lead those 
troopers of his by six lengths into action, and 
I tell you he’s bad to beat, whatever he puts 
his hand to. His head and nerve never fail him, 
and, whatever you may think, you will see 
he’ll pull Eed Eock through to-morrow.’’ 

“ You’re wrong this time, Nuts,” replied 
Palliser ; “ Bedouin is too fast for him. If it is a 


AT CALCUTTA. 


167 


strong run race, you will see Denton m difR- 
cull ies by the time he gets to the quarter mile 
post.” 

“ Perhaps so,” replied Bobby ; “ and he is 
never more dangerous, than when he is in 
difficulties. Why, look at that first precious 
mess we were in in this country, when poor 
Dunbar’s column was destroyed. Wasn’t he 
left for dead on the field, and hasn’t he been 
fighting for a couple of years since?” 

His opponent laughed as he replied, “ Your 
argument hardly holds water, Bobby ; because 
a man escaped with his life from that dis- 
aster, it doesn’t at all follow that he can win 
upon a horse which, according to your own 
acknowledgment, is scarce likely to prove fast 
enough.” But here the speaker moved out 
of earshot, and Miss Lepel heard no more. 
She had failed to recognis ; who Denton’s 
enthusiastic supporter was, though still under 
the impression that she had met him some- 
where. However, it was clear that Denton 
was in Calcutta. How long had he been there ? 
Did he know she was there? And was it 
likely that he bore in memory those last 
words he had said to her at Dinapore ? Molly 
had taken a strange interest in his career, 
and it was one of which any woman attached 
to him might be proud. She had thought a 


168 


BAD TO BEAT. 


great deal of him, and read the account of 
some of his hairbreadth escapes with tingling 
pulses. She was strangely silent as they 
drove home, and confessed to herself that she 
should like to hear those words that Denton 
had refrained from speaking at Dinapore. 
One thing only was clear to Miss Lepel, and 
that was, that she must see this race on the 
morrow ; and then she resolved to make one 
of her admirers happy, by giving him a com- 
mission to discover all particulars concerning 
it, without delay. The young gentleman to 
whom she was about to entrust her com- 
mission, proved able to give her the desired 
information off-hand. 

“ It’s not a regular race-meeting. Miss 
Lepel. Just a sort of bye-day, you know ; 
but the weather is getting so jolly hot, that 
it will come off early in the morning ; the 
race you allude to, is the big thing on the 
card. A sweepstakes, knocked up the other 
night at a dinner at the Bengal Club ; and 
then there’s a match or two, and another race 
or so, to make out the morning’s sport. If 
you’ll let me call for you a little before six, I 
shall be proud to escort you and Mrs. Cal- 
lander there.” 

“ Thank you, very much ; we will take care 
to be ready.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“ ONE RACE TOO MANY.” 

OUNGING in tlie verandah of the Bengal 



Li Club are two men engaged in rather 
earnest conversation. A small table stands 
between them, garnished with goblets of 
cooling drink. They are seated in rocking- 
chairs and sweetening their talk with the 
consumption of tobacco. Denton, for he is 
one of the smokers, is somewhat changed 
since we saw him last. Naturally dark, he 
has been burnt still darker by exposure to 
the sun ; his face, always hard, has grown still 
more stern, owing to the work of the last two 
years ; but a shrewd observer might have 
noticed also a worn, wearied look about him 
that was wanting in the days of the leaguer 
of Arrah. The tall, spare figure gave no in- 
dication of illness, but the man himself was 
conscious of there being something the matter, 
although it would have puzzled him to say 
what ; iilce many others, he was suffering from 
the re-action. During all the desperate fight- 
ing through Bengal he had had, to use his 
owji words, “No tirne to be ill,’’ but the 


170 


BAD TO BEAT. 


extreme tension once relaxed, he, like many 
another, not only had time to be so, but was. 
There was nothing tangible the matter, only 
that perpetual feeling of lassitude that conies 
when the physical forces have been unduly 
strained for a long period. Quiet and perfect 
rest are the sole remedies, and if not had re- 
course to, this weariness is apt to be but the 
prelude of serious illness. Many of those 
who went through that trying campaign 
broke down when their work was accom- 
plished. 

“ It’s no use. Nuts. I tell you, you’ve 
made a fool of yourself. It’s an expensive 
amusement, and one which you’re prone to 
indulge in. Entering Ked Eock for this race 
was all very well ; but to back him pretty 
stiffly afterwards was downright stupidity. 
He’s a good stout horse, but he’s not quick 
enough for the company you’ve placed him 
in.” 

“ He’ll stay all the way, replied Mr. 
Nuthall, “ and with your knowledge of pace 
you’re safe to be with them at the finish.” 

“Tbu are running away with the recol- 
lection of that old race I snatched out of the 
fire with Trumpeter ; but you can’t expect 
your antagonists to go off and cut their own 
throats by making such running as they did 


171 


“ ONE BACE TOO MANY.'* 

upon that occasion. You know very well I 
ought not to have won. Talford, who rides 
Bedouin, is no novice at the game, I have 
ridden against him before. He is not at all 
the man to make any mistake of that sort, 
and this Mamaluke, I hear, is a very smart 
horse, and anybody who can take an unpre- 
judiced view must acknowledge that Eed 
Eock is hardly that. I shall do the best I can 
for you, but you’ll lose your money this 
time.’’ 

At this instant, a man entered the verandah, 
at the sight of whom Denton sprang rapidly 
to his feet. 

“ My dear Fawcett ! ” he exclaimed, “ how 
are you ? I’ve never set ej' es upon you since 
the old Arrah days, and, what’s more, have 
never met one of my old comrades on that 
occasion since. Fetch a chair here, and let’s 
have a talk over old times. One of my 
brother officers, Mr. Nuthall.” 

If Fawcett had never heard of Bobby 
Nuthall, the latter knew him by name very 
well. The names of the heroes of Arrah, who 
had held six thousand of the mutineers at bay 
for a week, were bandied about pretty freely 
at that time. As for Mr. Nuthall, he had 
done his work steadily and well, like hundreds 
of others, but fortune had never vouch- 


BAB TO BEAT. 


in 

safed him the opportunity of distinguishing 
himself. 

“Ah ! we have heard plenty of you and 
your doings since then, and I fancy that 
you have paid the little debt we owed the 
Sepoys with heavy interest.” 

“ Where’s the Judge, and how is Miss 
Lepel ? ” inquired Denton. 

“ The Judge is up in his own district, and 
fit as a fiddle ; but as for Miss Lepel, she is 
here, staying with the Callanders. I had 
tiffin with them to day. She is looking 
prettier than ever. As for how she is, she 
will tell you herself if you go and call there.” 

“ I shall only be too glad to do so,” replied 
Denton. “ I had no idea she was in Calcutta. 
I have only been here a few days, and have 
hardly been outside this establishment during 
that time. To tell the truth, I feel a little 
played out, the wheels run down, and all that 
sort of thing. I am on my way home ; but 
there is such a lot more fellows doing the 
same thing that it is not quite so easy to get 
a passage.” 

“ No,” said Mr. Nuthall, “ I’m afraid you 
have not much chance for the next two 
weeks.” 

“ Well, the sooner you’re off the better,” 
said Fawcett, who had been carefully study- 


**ONE TtACE TOO MANY,'* 173 

ing Denton’s face while he was speaking. “ I 
can see that the work has told upon you. 
By Jove ! you’ve earned your holiday as well 
as anyone I know. Quite right, take a run 
home as soon as you can get away ; six 
months in England will quite set you up 
again.” 

“ And how’s Cole ? ” 

“ He is wonderfully well, and pegging away 
at his railway in serious earnest again now. 
I’ve got a rattling good story against him, 
which he is not likely to hear the last of in a 
hurry.” Denton had but a slight inkling of 
Fawcett’s talent for romancing during those 
days at Arrah ; such talk as they had bore 
mainly upon the matter in hand, and there 
was little time for story-telling. 

“ I had gone up to Cole’s the other day,” 
said Fawcett, without further preface, “ and 
we were lounging in the verandah about half 
an hour, before dinner, when we saw a man 
coming rapidly up the drive. ‘ By Jove,’ he 
exclaimed, ‘ that’s Jack Cotton ; did you ever 
meet him ? He’s an indigo planter in these 
parts, and a rattling good fellow, but he 
scorns personal adornment. Just look at his 
clothes now ! Why, an English scarecrow, with 
any decent feeling, would be ashamed to be 
seen in them.’ ‘ Well,’ I said, ‘ I certainly can’t 


174 


BAD TO BEAT. 


compliment your friend on his attire. ‘ No,’ 
rejoined Cole, ‘ did you ever see such a coat ? 
Blessed if I think they would even bid for it 
in Petticoat Lane ! ’ By this time the indigo 
planter had arrived within hail of us, and ex- 
claimed, ‘ How are 5fou, Cole ? Do you recog- 
nise the get up ? ’ Cole started to his feet, 
and I saw a queer smile steal over his counte- 
nance. ‘ Ah, old fellow,’ continued Cotton, 
‘ I got caught in that last shower, and was 
dienched to the skin, but I was luckily close 
to your shanty on the works. I went in, and 
your people said there was a suit of clothes 
there which you wore when overlooking. I 
took advantage of the chance, and just 
changed suits.’ ” 

“ By the way,” continued Fawcett, when 
the laugh his story had raised had subsided, ‘ I 
see, by the race card that they have got up- 
stairs, you are riding to-morrow morning ; 
that’s not keeping quiet, you know.” 

It had never struck Bobby Nuthall till this 
moment that there could be anything the 
matter with his former captain ; but now it 
was made clear to him that there was, he in- 
terposed anxiousl}’', and exclaimed; 

“ Don’t you ride if you’re not up to it. 
I’d rather lose three times the rupees than 
you should do yourself any harm.” 


<*ONE RACE TOO MANY," 176 

“ Pooh, Nuts, a two-mile gallop won’t hurt 
me, and I’m only going to ride one race.” 

“ Well,” chimed in Fawcett, “ don’t forget 
you’ve taken a precious lot out of yourself 
during the last two years. It’s as well to let 
your constitution lie fallow a bit after such a 
strain.” 

“ To see what I can make of Eed Rock to- 
morrow is about the last call I shall make on 
it for some time,” and then they fell to dis- 
cussing that noble animal’s prospects, about 
which, despite all Denton could say, his owner 
was sanguine as ever. 

The next morning saw quite a little gather- 
ing on the Calcutta race course. Although 
rather an impromptu meeting, not advertised, 
and got up by a few members of the club at 
rather short notice, it was still tolerably 
well known through the city, and society 
turned out in considerable force to witness 
the sport. Mrs. Callander was there with her 
daughters in a comfortable roomy barouche. 
Miss Lepel was there on horseback, and • sur- 
rounded by a small staff of admirers, and was 
speedily joined by Fawcett. 

“ I met an old friend of yours, Miss 
Lepel, last night, who intends doing himself 
the honour of calling on you to day ; 
he has only been here a few days, and 


13 


176 


BAB TO BEAT. 


had no idea you ' were in Calcutta till I told 
him.” 

“ Oh ! you mean Major Denton,” replied 
Molly. “ I shall be indeed pleased to see him. 
It is close upon two years since we said good- 
bye to each other, and what a name he has 
made for himself since ! ” 

“ You will see him this morning for certain, 
and most likely to speak to.” 

“ I know. I see he is to ride this horse of 
Mr. Nuthall’s. By the way, you must know he 
also is an acquaintance of mine, though the 
last time we met w^as in an English ball- 
room. Bring him to me if you come across 
him in the course of the morning’s proceed- 
ings.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Fawcett, “ and he will 
doubtless be proud to be recollected, but you 
must remember at the present moment he is 
one of those important persons who own 
race-horses. Like the Laird of Cockpen, just 
now ‘ his mind is ta’en up wi’ affairs of the 
state.’ ” 

“ When Major Denton has won upon Eed 
Eock, Mr. Nuthall will, perhaps, have leisure 
to say, ‘ How do you do ? ’ to an old danc- 
ing partner.” 

“ Ah, I’m afraid there is a disappointment 
in store for that young gentleman. Denton 


ONE RACE TOO MANY.' 


177 


doesn’t in the least expect to win ; Nuthall is 
very sanguine himself, but his jockey is by no 
means so, and I fancy the latter is the best 
judge of the two.” 

“ I agree with Mr. Nuthall,” replied Molly 
gaily, “ I overheard him say last night that 
Major Denton was bad to beat, and I think he 
is, at anything he sets his hand to.” 

The name of Eed Eock’s owner on the 
card, in conjunction with Major Denton’s as 
that animal’s rider, had at once recalled to 
Miss Lepel where and when she had heard 
Bobby’s voice before. 

Although there is no ring, there is much 
private speculation in front of the stand on 
the Club Sweepstakes, as the principal race 
of the day is entitled. 

Bedouin is a hot favourite for that event; 
the horse is well-known to the turfites of the 
Calcutta world, and his rider. Captain Tal- 
ford’s reputation as a horseman stands quite 
as high as Denton’s. Mamaluke, too, has a 
strong party behind him. Mr. Sherrard, his 
owner, is well-known as one of the most 
astute men on the Bengal turf, and though 
not looked upon as quite so finished a horse- 
man as Talford, is -yet reckoned a more than 
average performer. As for Eed Eock, except 
amongst a few of Mr. Nuthall’s immediate 


178 


BAI> TO BEAT. 


friends, there is little disposition to back him, 
and he commanded but a low price in the 
lotteries overnight at the Club. Here and 
there one or two of those speculators who 
never can resist investing a little on the 
chance of a coup, recollecting one or two 
masterly bits of riding on Mr. Denton’s part 
(as he was then) during his former sojourn in 
India, placed a little money on Red Rock, 
but a thousand rupees to eighty was freely 
proffered, and Mr Nuthall’s good thing was 
evidently by no means regarded as such by 
the racing community. 

The preliminary races can have no interest 
for the readers of this history, so we will pass 
on at once to the piece de resistance. Red 
Rock, a coarse, bony-looking Waler, certainly 
did not compare favourably with the neat 
thorough-bred English Bedouin, or the blood- 
like looking Barb, Mamaluke. Short time 
was wasted over the preliminary canter, and 
the starter despatched the half-dozen at the 
very first attempt. It was evident to Denton 
before they had gone a quarter of a mile that 
Talford and Mr. Sherrard were simply wait- 
ing on each other. Now he felt quite certain 
that both their horses had the foot of him. 
According to their tactics, the race would not 
be run till the second mile, even if run the 


"ONE IIACE TOO MANY.' 


179 


whole of that ; this would never do, his sole 
chance with Eed Eock lay in wearing his 
antagonists down. His horse could stay for 
a week if need be, but was deficient in speed. 
Denton at once took Eed Eock to the front, 
and made play at as strong a pace as he 
dared venture. By the time they had gone a 
mile and a half it was evident that Mr. 
Nuthall had some grounds for his belief in 
Eed Eock ; but it was palpable that the Waler 
had galloped three of his antagonists to a 
standstill, though Bedouin on his right and 
Mamaluke on his left, as Denton was quite 
aware, were still hanging to him. At the 
quarter of a mile post from home, where 
Nuts had so emphatically predicted that Eed 
Eock would have settled his field, these two 
on either hand began to close with him. 
They were really racing now, and tenderly 
though he rode the Waler, Denton found he 
could barely live with his antagonists. He 
knew as far as he was concerned that it was 
a question of which cracked first. If they 
were not done with in the next hundred and 
fifty 3'ards, his horse would be. Suddenly he 
became conscious of a queer feeling in his 
head ; things began to spin round with him. 
They were nearing the stand now ; he had a 
vague idea that he must keep his place ; his 


180 


BAD TO BEAT. 


only chance was that Bed Eock might stay 
the longest, lie sat down and began to drive 
his horse in real earnest; then everything 
spun round with him. Ked Rock from sheer 
distress swerved right across Bedouin, and his 
rider lurched lielplessly out of the saddle, 
leaving Mr. Sherrard on Mamaluke to shoot 
in an easy winner by a couple of lengths on 
the far side of the, course. 

There was a rush of people at once to the 
assistance of the fallen man. The accident 
had taken place almost opposite the stand, 
and right in front of all the carriages. Mr. 
Nuthall had rushed down from the former 
place in a state of great consternation. His 
quick eye had detected that it was not the 
horse’s swerve altogether that had unseated 
Denton, but something more. 

When he got on to the course he passed 
Talford on his way to the weighing room, 
the latter’s boot had been cut clean open 
against the rails. 

“Come and tell me, Nuthall, as quick as 
you can, how Denton is. He has lost me the 
race, but I must weigh in at once on the 
off chance of there being anything wrong 
with Mamaluke. But this is worse than a 
fall. Poor Denton must have had a fit, or 
something of that sort. No horse ever got 


ONE RACE TOO MANY.' 


181 


out of his iron grip in that fashion before, 
and I’ve ridden against him dozens of times, 
remember.” 

Mr. Fawcett, too, throwing his reins to a 
companion, had made his way to the group 
around the fallen man. A doctor was bend- 
ing over the sufferer when he arrived there. 

“ Get a carriage,” exclaimed the doctor, 
“ and take him home as quickly as you can. 
Ther e is nothing broken as far as I can make 
out ; it looks to me like a touch of the sun on 
a man who has been over-worked for some 
time.” 

A carriage was speedily procured and, in 
charge of the surgeon and Mr. Nuthall, the 
senseless man was conveyed back to the 
Bengal Club, where he was staying, and the 
medical men, for one or two more had come 
to their confreres assistance, proceeded to 
examine the patient more closely than had 
been possible on the race-course ; but they 
all concurred in the first verdict, that it was 
a case of sun-stroke oh a man who had been 
taxing his resources, both mental and physical, 
too heavily for some time. 

“ It’s likely to be a bad business,” said the 
surgeon who had been the first to come to 
Denton’s assistance “ Fortunately he seems to 
have got a good airy room, quiet and the best 


182 


TtAD TO BEAT. 


of nursing is what he will chiefly require. In 
the field it would have gone very hard with 
him, but down here, we can, luckily, get 
heaps of ice, and anything he requires.” 

“ Only tell me what he wants,” interposed 
Nuthall, “ and I’ll take care he gets it. It’s 
all my fault that he ever rode that brute of a 
horse at all.” 

“ Oh, we shall pull him through, never 
fear,” rejoined one of the doctors ; “ but he’ll 
require great care, and you mustn’t be sur- 
prised to find him light-headed for the next 
few days.” 

Miss Lepel was deadly pale as she rode 
home, and listened to Fawcett’s report ; nor 
was the bulletin that he brought round in the 
afternoon very comforting. Though no longer 
insensible, Denton could by, no means be said 
to have recovered his senses. He was de- 
lirious, and in the words of the American 
poet, “ Wild as a loon.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

“ TWIXT TOMB AND ALTAB.” 

M r. NUTHALL devoted himself to taking 
care of his old captain with the most un- 
stinted attention, and the doctors proved only 
too correct in their prognostications. Denton 
was delirious for some days, and talked such 
wild nonsense and suffered from such phan- 
tasies as a man usually does when fighting 
with an attack of brain fever. He was never 
still, his tongue never stopped its restless 
babble. Now he was defying the mutineers at 
Arrah, now he was cheering on his company 
to the storming of the Kaiserbagh, and then 
he was leading his wild troopers in hot pur- 
suit of the flying Sepoys through Oude and 
Rohilcund, but above it all rang continous 
enquiry about Miss Lepel. Where was she ? 
What was she doing ? She knew that he had 
something to say to her, and what was that ? 
He had come all this way to say it, and now 
he could not recollect what it was. “ You 
idiots ! ” he would say to his attendants. 
“ You fool ! ” he would exclaim to poor Nut- 
hall, “What is it I want to say? you must 


184 


BAD TO BEAT. 


know ! ” and then with a wild wail he would 
turn his face away, murmuring, “ Too late ! 
too late ! ” only in a few minutes to cry out 
“ Forward, forward, I say ! Don’t spare your 
sabres, men, there is no quarter wanted for 
soldiers who broke faith with those whose salt 
they have eaten.” 

As for poor Bobby, the case was almost 
beyond him. He stuck with unflinching 
perseverance to the task he had undertaken, 
and watched over his patient with an assiduity 
that never tired. He was stung with remorse 
as he listened to his friend’s ravings, and 
thought that if he had not pestered him to 
ride Eed Eock, this might never have hap- 
pened. But though he could see the doctor’s 
instructions carried out, and take every care 
that the sufferer wanted for nothing, yet 
Nuts had a strong suspicion that when the 
delirium subsided the case would get a little 
beyond him. 

Miss Lepel sent flowers and inquiries every 
day. Fawcett, too, was constant in asking 
after the sick man, and there were plenty of 
callers daily to know how Major Denton was 
going on. At length the fever subsided, and, 
shattered in health, a mere wreck of his 
former self, and so weak that he could not 
totter across the room without assistance, the 


'TWIXT TOMB AND ALTAR.' 


185 


invalid was once more clothed and in his 
right mind. 

He said very little in these early days of 
his convalescence ; he dozed away the best 
part of his time, as men after battling hard 
on the border- land usually do when struggling 
back to life. The poor dazed brain refused 
at first to grapple with what had happened, 
and sleep and nourishment were the sole 
things that seemed to interest the sufferer 
after his fell struggle with the Destroyer in 
the first instance. But as he recovered 
strength, he exhibited undue depression, and 
relapsed into almost unaccountable silence. 

“ This won’t do, Nuthall,” said the doctor 
one morning. “ You have shewn yourself a 
splendid nurse, and we’ve pulled our man 
through, but there’s something all wrong 
about him that beats me. He ought to be 
taking a child-like interest in his con- 
valescence, in his drives, his meals, and all 
the gossip we bring him, instead of which he 
is sunk in a dull apathy out of which there 
seems no rousing him. There’s something on 
his mind, and the first thing we have got to 
do is to dissipate that illusion, for such it 
probably is. You were with him through all 
his ravings. Just think what subject there 
was that seemed specially to worry him; 


1S6 


BAD TO BEAT. 


take plenty of time, and if you would rather 
not confide in me, well, just talk it over with 
anyone of his intimate friends you think 
proper.” 

Thus adjured, Mr. Nuthall betook himself 
to the verandah, and having ignited a Number 
One Manilla, sat down to have what he called 
“ a big think.” A very little reflection told 
Nuthali that one of the subjects that had been 
uppermost in Denton’s mind during his 
delirium was his inability to say something to 
Miss Lepel, that he was extremely desirous of 
doing. All that wandering about his old 
campaigning days surely could not be 
worrying him now. Bobby recollected that 
Denton had manifested more interest in Miss 
Lepel than he could ever call to mind his 
cynical captain evincing in any young lady ; 
then he remembered that they had been 
shut up together during the siege of Arrah, 
and finally Mr. Nuthall came to the con- 
clusion that some misunderstanding with 
Miss Lepel might be the key to the major’s 
depression. 

“ I should like to talk this thing over with 
somebody,” he muttered, as he flipped the ash 
off his cheroot. “ And, by Jove ! here comes 
the very man ! Just wishing to see you, Mr. 
Fawcett,” observed Nuts, as that gentleman. 


'''TWIXT TOMB AND ALTAR." 


187 


taking a seat next him, proceeded to inq^uire 
after the invalid. 

“ Well, that’s just where it is ! ” rejoined 
Mr. Nuthall, “ he don’t get on Of course, 
after such a shaking as he has had, it is not 
likely that his mind is very clear about any- 
thing. I’hough he is no longer delirious, I 
don’t think he has quite come to his right 
senses yet. He is awfully silent, and we can’t 
rouse him ; it seems to me as if he can’t piece 
out something to his satisfaction, as if he was 
struggling hard to recall something to his 
memory, and can’t. Now it’s just possible 
you can give me a hint. Was there ever 
anything between Denton and Miss Lepel ? ” 

“ I can’t say positively,” replied Fawcett; 
“ They are both proud, self-contained natures, 
that make very little parade of their feelings. 
I know at the end of that Arrah business I 
thought they very likely would come to* 
gether, but then he went off into all the 
tumult of the campaign, and they have never 
met since, I know. But I tell you what, if 
you’ve any grounds for supposing so I can 
help you.” 

“ Well, quite between ourselves,” replied 
Nuthall, “ Miss Lepel’s name was continually 
on his lips during his delirium.” 

“ Ah ! Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’m 


188 


BAD TO BEAT. 


a very old friend of her father’s, and I'll 
bring her down here with me on a visit of 
inquiry, and we shall see what comes of it.” 

So it was arranged between the two con- 
spirators that the Collector should bring Miss 
Lepel down to call in a day or two, and as 
Fawcett remarked, “How far my presence 
shall extend at their interview must be deter- 
mined by circumstances.” The fact was that 
Denton’s brain was still all misty as regarded 
the events just preceding his sun-stroke. Did 
he ride that race ? Had he seen Miss Lepel ? 
Had he said to her that which he had it in 
his mind to say, or had he dreamt all this ? 
What was weighing on the sick man was his 
perplexity about what was real and what 
mere visions of his distempered fancy. His 
mind was like a child’s, struggling feebly to 
understand, and impatient on account of its 
inability to concentrate itself for more than a 
few minutes on any subject. It was a pitiful 
sight to see the strong man so utterly broken 
down. He, who had possessed nerves of iron 
and muscles of steel, now started if a book 
fell from the table, and could hardly totter 
across the room without assistance. Except 
his doctor and Mr. Nuthall, and Fawcett once, 
he had seen nobody as yet. People saluted 
him when he drove out, but he only stared at 


‘"TWIXT TOMB AND ALTAR.” 


189 


them in a dazed sort of way, and seldom ac- 
knowledged their greeting. Like a watch, he 
had stood at high-pressure tension for some 
time, but the mainspring had gone at last, 
and it was just about as much as the doctors 
could do to repair the machinery. But 
Fawcett and Nuthall were bent upon trying 
their experiment, and one morning it was 
broken to him that the Collector and Miss 
Lepel would pay him a visit that afternoon. 
Ah, they had broken through the apathy at 
last. The dark eyes gleamed with a dash of 
the old fire at the mention of Molly’s name. 

“ I rather think you’ve hit it oflT, Nuthall,” 
said the doctor, who had been narrowly 
watching his patient when the communica- 
tion was made to him. “ An interview with 
Miss Lepel will wake him up, I’ve no doubt. 
I’ll call in again in the evening, and see how 
he is after it.” 

Molly was unfeignedly shocked when she 
first saw him. She knew that he had been at 
death’s door, but she had hardly expected to 
find him so utterly prostrate as she did. He 
struggled to rise from his sofa to receive 
her, but she promptly forbade all that, and 
drawing a chair to a side of his couch, began 
to talk gently to him in a low tone about old 
days. He said very little in reply, but her 


190 


BAD TO BEAT. 


voice seemed to soothe him, and no woman 
could have been blind to the wistful glance 
with which he regarded her. From that out 
it became quite part of the daily programme 
that the sick man should receive a visit from 
Miss Lepel, and it was quite evident that 
Molly’s presence was a better tonic than all 
the drugs in the pharmacopaoia. Denton began 
steadily to pick up, and when Fawcett came 
in late one afternoon to escort his charge 
back to the Callanders’, he found her sitting 
by the invalid’s side, with her hand locked in 
his. 

“ Yes, Mr. Fawcett,” she said with a smile, 
“ I don’t think he will ever get really strong 
without me, and so I have promised to marry 
him as soon as he comes back from England 
to claim me.” 


THE END. 



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